


Wild Thing

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Series: Wild Thing Plus One [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Allison is Evil, Alpha Derek, Anal, Asexual Isaac Lahey, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Fox Stiles Stilinski, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, Lots of Better Sex, M/M, Mild Gore, NO ANTRHO IN THIS FIC, Noah Stilinski IS dead and staying that way sorry, One Scene Painful Sex, Oral, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Silly Stiles Stilinski, Spoiler alert Scott's not dead tho, Survival, Temporary Character Death, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski, Torture, Werefox Stiles Stilinski, Wolf Derek Hale, no bestiality, tiny houses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 69,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Pack. It had been so long, but there it was. Human hands carded through his fur, and Derek was so alone that he felt the connection stutter to life immediately. He shuddered and sank down on the ground as the human continued to pet and stroke him, one glove dangling from his mouth and the other dropped into the snow. Even though he could easily break away it might hurt the one who was stroking his fur. Instead he stared up at a mole-dotted face with bleeding, chapped lips that were now parted in awe. Brown eyes with flecks of amber practically glowed in the rising sun.





	1. Chapter 1

UGH. FINALLY. This was supposed to be SHORT. As it was I had to cut it down. A lot. Edit happened. Anyway. Enjoy my long plot bunny about survival and packs and for some reason tiny houses.

 

Derek remembered the time when he walked on two legs and spoke words instead of howls and yips. He remembered a time when his mother's scent was in his nose every day, and when he was constantly surrounded by the press of siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and grandparents. He vaguely recalled the taste of cooked meat and salad dressing. He could almost feel a bed beneath him just as he was waking at dusk each night, only for the memory to fade into mist when he fully shook the leaves from his fur. He knew that he had not always been a huge black lone wolf, howling in misery every full moon as the town remained painfully empty of other werewolves, but without a pack to return to his body was lost to him.

 

Years had passed. The town had changed. A werewolf _had_ come, but it had been vicious and his attempts to communicate with it had nearly cost him his life. He'd fled from it, and eventually it was put down. He did not mourn it's death, although it had smelled familiar. He did feel loss over the death of the other werewolf that the vicious one had made, but he died before Derek could form a bond with him so he was soon forgotten.

 

Derek's only clear memory was his name. It was important because it was all he had of his previous life that was still the same. So Derek clung to it, and since he was completely alone there was no one to call him by a different name until the trap caught him.

 

It was a net trap that yanked him up into the air and bounced him around, spinning his world around in more ways than one. He growled angrily and instinctively struggled to stand, but of course that just left him with his legs dangling in the air, peddling as if swimming in water. It was embarrassing; made more so by the soft chuckle of laughter that met his ears before he could start ripping apart the nets with his teeth.

 

“Why am I laughing? I caught a fucking _wolf!_ No, that can't be right. There are no wolves in this part of California. So a wolf-dog or super-large breed. Something brought in from elsewhere. _So cool!_ Hey, big guy! _”_

 

Derek tilted his head and peered down at a skinny human wearing at least three layers of clothing. He was moving slow, leaning on a make-shift crutch, and smelled of blood and pain. He frowned up at Derek with whiskey eyes that caught the werewolf's attention.

 

“You're beautiful, though. I'm tempted to let you go but I don't think I'll survive another night alone. See,” The human eyed Derek and then began tying a lot of knots in a rope he was holding, “It's cold as fuck and I'm injured so getting food and firewood has gotten a _lot_ harder. I have some really nice gear, but even with that I'm freezing to death. It gets colder every night. Fucking global warming. I mean, I could just go back to civilization but then I'd have to face my past, so that's not happening. So that's where you come in.”

 

Derek blinked and the human had a rope over his head and around his mouth. The wolf was shocked. He was _fast!_ Or Derek was distracted by the longing he felt for companionship. Either way, he was muzzled, and shaking his head and snarling wasn't getting him anywhere. The net was lowered and Derek struggled irritably, unwilling to risk harming him but still furious, until human hands touched him. Then he went still.

 

Pack. It had been so long, but there it was. Human hands carding through his fur, and Derek was so alone that he felt the connection stutter to life immediately. He shuddered and sank down on the ground as the human continued to pet and stroke him, one glove dangling from his mouth and the other dropped into the snow. Even though he could easily break away it might hurt the one who was _stroking his fur_. Instead he stared up at a mole-dotted face with bleeding, chapped lips that were now parted in awe. Brown eyes with flecks of amber practically glowed in the rising sun.

 

“There you go. Good boy. I know I'm this mean, scary human to you right now, but humans and wolves are both pack animals. So we totally need each other. I'll feed you and you'll keep me warm and in no time you'll see me as family. Gosh, you're gorgeous! Look at all that fur! I've never seen a dog like you before. I hope you get tame fast because I don't like keeping you muzzled. Come on. Let's go, boy.”

 

The human looped another rope through his muzzle, dropped it around his body, and quickly made a harness. Managing it while Derek was still in the net was actually rather impressive. Derek blamed it on his ridiculously long fingers. The young man removed the net, fed the leash back out of it, and stood up with the length of rope in his hands and a nervous look on his face.

 

“Good doggy,” He whispered, looking awed at Derek's lack of struggling.

 

Derek could have broken free, of course. The muzzle fit well, but he was a werewolf, not a wolf. He could have just flexed his jaw muscles and torn the rope asunder. Instead he was waiting to see what would happen. If this human were as isolated as he and truly in need of pack than perhaps Derek had found a solution to the long, lonely life he lived.

 

“Okay. Here we go,” The human breathed.

 

He led Derek to his campsite where a lean-to protected a tent. Derek had been aware of it and a few other camp sites, but simply steered clear of the areas. It was a big Preserve. There was plenty of space for both humans and animals so long as the Preserve stayed... well... preserved. The human had a dug out fire pit showing that he was fairly well established. The scent of feces nearby let him know where the human buried his filth, and Derek was relieved that it was far enough away that neither would get sick from it. Up in the trees hung a shelf of food tied in place on a simple pulley system using what looked to be a discarded wheel from a bike's training wheels.

 

“Well, this is home,” Stiles told him, “I sort of assumed I'd be catching something less toothsome than you so I built a fence... but... yeah, that's not going to contain you.”

 

Derek glanced at the little pen the human had made. Whatever he'd thought he would catch, Derek highly doubted the pen would contain it either. Maybe a flightless bird or hobbled deer.

 

“I guess I'll just take you with me while I hunt and gather,” The human replied, “Or tie you up, but that seems shitty and you'd just chew through it. Oh! I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Stiles. I know, I know, what's a Stiles? It's a nickname. Nobody can pronounce the real name and you _really_ don't want to know. C'mere. Let me get you something to eat.”

 

Derek's ears perked up at that and the human guided him over to the pen. He led Derek into it and tied him to the tree within. He didn't remove the muzzle and Derek huffed in annoyance at that. How did he expect Derek to eat that way? Stiles lowered a basket and pulled out some strips of cooked meat. They were frozen solid so he built up the fire and thawed them out. He had rubbed them with herbs before cooking them the first time around and the scent was mouthwatering. The meat would be dry due to the second heating, but Derek was more than eager for it as the human approached. He remembered cooked meat, but paws didn't perform those tasks so he'd been stuck with raw. Stiles cut the meat up into small pieces, took a few breaths to calm himself down, and then held the meat out to Derek in bites small enough to slip past the muzzle. It was a pain in the ass to eat with a muzzle on and Derek swallowed the piece almost whole after enjoying the flavor. He hadn't had cooked deer in years, and it was more than satisfying. He wagged his tail to show his approval.

 

“There we go,” Stiles straightened up happily, “Bonding started. I'm gonna eat some, too.”

 

Stiles spent the next few hours talking to Derek, feeding both of them bits of food. He had some vegetables, but Derek turned his nose up at them. Vegetables were better _raw,_ damn it, not cooked. Stupid human. Derek would wait until spring when they showed up in their full glory. He did accept some nuts only because he loved them and roasted nuts were _heavenly_ , and the human had somehow gotten hold of honey to put on them! HONEY! Derek yipped happily, wriggling in joy and the human perked up eagerly. He happily gave Derek more and the alpha even slipped his tongue free to lick his fingers as best as possible through the muzzle.

 

“Well, I guess that answers if it's too tight,” Stiles laughed, “Gosh, you're gorgeous!”

 

Derek wagged his tail again in thanks. It was nice to be acknowledged. The human had the gate open since Derek was tied to the tree and he was reaching through to stroke his coat over and again. It felt _heavenly_ to have someone stroking his fur, digging his fingers into his soft undercoat.

 

“I'm so totally falling for you,” Stiles purred, “You're _amazing!”_

 

Derek's ass was out of control, wriggling from side to side at Stiles' praise. He had spent the last years hating himself. This human _liked him!_ The human thought he was amazing. Stiles was looking at him the way humans often looked at dogs, with schmoopy eyes and frequent smiles, pouts, and cooes. It was honestly degrading, but Derek wasn't about to be picky. He'd been alone for uncountable seasons, and this human was kneeling in the snow, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck, and _hugging him_.

 

Derek panted happily, mouth hurting more from the unprecedented level of grinning than the muzzle. The human sat up and smiled at him lovingly.

 

“I have to go hunting and gathering,” Stiles sighed, looking as if he didn't want to leave, “Will you stay here?”

 

Derek paused at that, looking around the pen. The human had cleared out the snow in expectation of his guest, and that was a _bad thing_. If Derek were left out in the relative open, even with his fur he would start to suffer from the chill. He needed to be able to fortify his fur with shelter, which meant burrowing into the snow or hiding in a place that the wind couldn't reach. Even if he had sunlight it would be _something_ to bask in, but the trees hid the sun. He wasn't going to stay there for an unknown amount of hours- possibly days- freezing his balls off just to keep the human amused.

 

“I know, it's not what you're used to,” The human cooed, immune to Derek's pointed whine, “But I'll be back soon.”

 

Stiles poured some water into a bowl from a kettle he'd had sitting near the fire while cooking the meat. It was apparently just close enough to warm the formerly-frozen water within, because while it steamed a close inspection with his nose showed it wouldn't scald him. Stiles pressed a kiss to his head around one of the muzzle knots, shut the gate for good measure, and left while leaning heavily on his crutch.

Derek sat down and scowled after him, feeling belated embarrassment for his ridiculous behavior. One random human pets his fur and he turns into a snuggly puppy?! Humiliating.

 

And yet wonderful.

 

Derek flexed his muscles and stretched, breaking out of both harness and muzzle easily. The rope, when he examined the remains, appeared to be store bought rather than made, but it was old and brittle. So. Stolen or kept stored for too long. Now that Derek was free of the harness he easily leaped over the gate. Whatever Stiles had planned on keeping there, he'd not considered the creature's ability to jump or dig. Derek doubted most creatures would have been trapped, even had they not been supernatural as Derek was. The fencing was made of woven sticks, was a measly three feet tall, and didn't extend into the ground beneath it. If anything the narrow space inside might have contained something that required a running jump, such as a deer, to remain trapped, but it surely wouldn't have kept anything else within. What if he'd caught a raccoon? He'd probably have his face clawed off by now.

 

Derek explored the camp further, sniffing his way around the perimeter where the human had unconsciously marked his territory just by living within a certain area. There was an area where ropes indicated something had been hung in the past. The scent of soap lingered here, so Derek assumed it was a sort of changing room/shower/bath. It was not in use at the moment, but it was also frigid outside. Not far from that area was a deep pit, long hardened by having been frozen, with a woven wooden wall on the windward side and tarp curtains around the rest. The scent of his feces lingered here and when Derek dared the stench to peek in he saw that he'd used stacked logs to build a seat around the hole to make it more comfortable. It was worn where he'd sat. He'd been here a while, longer than Derek had been aware of him. He'd moved his latrine twice from what Derek could tell.

 

Derek backed out of the stink and moved around to study his actual shelter. From the outside it looked like more woven sticks, made into a lean-to against a large boulder. The back had more woven sticks to create a wall and the front had a tarp hanging over it, probably the one for the shower. When Derek nosed under the tarp he was surprised to find a three person dome tent within. He doubted the human could fully stand inside of it. To the left of the tent, in the taller section of the lean-to, was a height enough to stand, and here he saw the edge of a bench that graced the back wall. Along the inside of the walls of the lean-to was a massive amount of mosquito netting, which was tied back from the entrance since the tarp had taken it's place. Derek assumed that in warmer months the lean-to was the full shelter, rather than just protecting the tent from the elements from creating too much wear and tear on Stiles' shelter.

 

Derek wanted to nose his way into the tent, where the delicious scent of the human was coming from, but he didn't want to damage it so he set himself down to rest just inside the shelter. It was decent to be out of the wind, but not something Derek planned on doing all day. Finally he decided that if his food needs were met he'd play a bit. He skipped out of the shelter and spent some time pacing the edges of the camp, marking out his own territory the natural way, and chasing sunspots. He found a stick to savage and then went back to the shelter to rest. Just after he'd drifted off he heard a cry of sorrow and lifted his head in surprise.

 

“Damn it! I knew I should have built a fucking lid! Fuck!!”

 

Derek left the shelter and sat on his haunches, watching the human have a little fit of rage, stomping and smacking against a nearby tree in futile fury. He turned, spotted Derek, and shrieked in a most satisfying way. Derek let his tongue loll out in a lupine laugh. Stiles was _ridiculous._

 

“Oh, wow. You stayed. Okay. So. Bonding worked, then. Bit... fast. You aren't going to kill me, I hope?” Stiles edged towards him, hand extended and big, amber eyes wide with hope.

 

Derek gave his digits a sniff, noting that he'd been handling animals, wood, and metal. He must have had another place he stashed food, because he hadn't brought back his kill. Most likely he was being smart and keeping a majority of the meat either buried in a container or in a different tree where his home was _not_. It was the smart way to avoid being eaten by bears, wild cats, and Derek, not to mention avoiding the frustration of having all his food raided and eaten at once. Store it in different spots and if one got decimated another might survive.

 

The nervous human stepped closer, his gloved hand smoothing along Derek's muzzle, down his neck, and onto his shoulder. He knelt down and pulled Derek in for a tight hug. His heart was going so fast that Derek whined in concern. Why was Stiles so desperate for him to stay? What could he possibly need an animal companion for? Was he scared? Lonely? Derek knew well the slow drag into insanity that being alone caused, and the human had mentioned that they were both pack animals.

 

“It's going to be night soon,” Stiles leaned back on his haunches to stare into Derek's eyes, “We need to sleep. What you say... uh... Miguel? I like that. Miguel.”

 

Derek huffed in annoyance. He already had a fucking name. His name was all he had _left_. Everything else hurt. His past. His memories. All of those had gone up in flames and thinking of them was agony. He was _not Miguel_.

 

“Okay Miguel,” Stiles smiled tenderly at him, making Derek's stomach swoop, “Let's see if we can get comfortable in the tent before the light totally leaves. That way it will be a smooth transition. Come!”

 

Derek followed Stiles into the lean-to and watched him unzip the tent. The human crawled in and called for 'Miguel' in a cheery voice. Derek followed him in to find Stiles lighting a lantern within the tent. Derek wasn't at all sure that was safe, not only because it was a fire risk but because that lantern was eating up oxygen. Then again, the tent didn't exactly feel _air sealed_. The wind wasn't blowing through it- the tent walls and then the lean-to broke it up- but it was still cold and Derek imagined that when the sun went down it would be frigid. A glance up showed a small hole in the ceiling, an intentional one to let out the fumes while still allowing the tent to be warmed by the lantern. There was a mat spread across the floor to cushion it and keep him elevated from the frozen ground. There were things piled all along the edges of the tent with a wooden block in the middle as a table for the lantern. The bed was on the far side, as far from the drafty door as possible. Stiles crawled to it and sat on the sleeping bag. Derek scowled at it, eye ridges drawing down. There was only one sleeping bag and it sure as hell didn't look like it was meant to deal with Northern California's winter months.

 

“The lantern warms the tent quite a bit,” Stiles told him, “But it's seriously not enough. I know I'm not, like, in danger of losing a toe, but seriously the cold is down to my bones. Like my _whole body_ aches. After a while, it just feels... like... why keep going, you know?”

 

Stiles turns a broken gaze towards Derek, his eyes looking into the distance beyond him as if seeing the end itself. Derek knew that look. He had seen it reflected back at him in frozen lakes and still puddles. It brought a whine up from Derek's throat, and he stepped fully into the tent, skirted the lantern, and licked Stiles' chin to bring him back to the present.

 

Stiles laughed and ruffled his fur, grinning from ear to ear, “You know, you're _way_ too friendly to have been a wild dog. You must have been someone's pet at some point. Maybe that will make this easier. What do you think? Nice soft bed?”

 

Derek blinked down at it as Stiles patted it, wondering where he was going with _that_ particular idea. For all he knew Derek was a dog. He couldn't be _that_ lonely... could he?

 

“I'll make you a deal,” Stiles cooed, “You keep me warm enough to not want to die and I'll feed you all the beef jerky you could ever want!”

 

Oh. _Oh!_

 

Derek favored him with a lupine smile and gave his chin another quick lick. So the human was looking for a teddy bear/space heater. That made sense. What he had thought he'd do with a deer or whatever other animal he caught was beyond Derek, but since he'd stumbled across the only sentient animal in the woods he was in luck. Derek was just as desperate for affection as the human was. He stepped onto the sleeping bag and sat down, giving him a contented huff. Stiles is grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Now I have literally no hope that I'll get you _into_ my sleeping bag with me tonight, but you do keep surprising me, Miguel. It's a pretty big bag. Probably why it's not warm enough. Tighter means less air means warmer. It's a _couples bag_. I bought it for a camping trip with my boyfriend... who literally never got past a few dates with me. I'm kinda clingy and he ran for the hills. It was sad, really. He was only my first boyfriend and I think I would have gotten it right if I could have stayed in town. Before that I thought it was girls, but it turns out it was literally _one girl._ Funny, right? She was hella perfect, but never even noticed me. Except to say sorry when Scott died. She did do that. She was making plans for college when I left. I hope she finally stopped hiding how smart she is. She's fucking amazing, and I stand by that.”

 

Derek whined, wanting to know more about him. He'd babbled the day before about all his favorite things; movies, TV shows, and comics. Some Derek had known, but most had been too new for him to have heard of in his isolation. If Stiles was going to talk about his past maybe Derek would find out why he was here and how long he would be staying.

 

Stiles unlaced his boots and slid them off, pulling off his jeans to remain in long johns and socks and sliding partway into the bag.

  
“I sleep like this, with a layer of clothes on. They're getting ripe. I can't clean them in the winter, but I swear once the frost breaks I won't stink anymore. I make my own soap. It's not easy, but it keeps me busy between the whole surviving thing. My mom taught me how to do all these crafty things before... before she died. Of course, the same ingredients aren't out here, so I had to look up how to do it old school. I broke into the library for that. Sometimes I still do, but it's risky. They have cameras and while I make sure my presence wasn't noticed if they _were_ to check them and people were to realize I'm still alive out here it would be bad for me. They think I'm a murderer. I'm not. I would never... I'd never disgrace my dad's memory like that. Even though I'm mad enough to kill. The mad angry, not the mad crazy. I'm just... I'm so fucking _angry_.”

 

Derek let out a soft whine and Stiles nodded as if he'd spoken.

 

“It's just so fucking infuriating. First I lose my best friend, and then a few months later this crazy asshole starts killing people off. It's terrible. Loads of people die. Lahey. Bennett. Tucker. Sean Long. Jessica Bartlett. Kara Simmons. I didn't know them all, but I knew of them. Then whoever it was attacked the police station. Four Sherriff's deputies. Dead. My dad was on the warpath. He swore up and down it was a guy dressed as a lizard monster that attacked and everyone decided he was crazy. I wanted to help. I started my own little investigation.”

 

Stiles sniffled and Derek moved closer, pressing against him in the only comfort that he could give in this form... or any. He'd never been well spoken even before he'd regressed into his wolf form. Stiles probably needed more than a few terse words, but his furry body was a full sentence. Stiles pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. Derek laid across his lap and let himself be held tight in the human's embrace.

 

“He became obsessed with solving the weirder cases in Beacon Hills. Some of them were just... they were insane. Stuff that didn't make sense. People found with their skin just flayed off for no reason. Cannibalism. Animal attacks like the one that killed Scott, but so violent with teeth so big no animal from here could do it. A girl electrocuted to death on a night without a storm and nothing but woods around her. It was out of this world shit, Twilight Zone stuff, the X-Files kind. They decided he was off the deep end, just for looking into stuff they were all ignoring! Like... he just wanted to solve them! But they said it was dereliction of duty because he couldn't chase 'unsolvable cases' and to make sure everyone paid their parking tickets. So they fired him. He just... lost himself in booze. I thought if I could solve that shit he'd get his act together so I kept looking. And looking. You know what I found? Fucking monsters, man. All that weird shit was weirder than we ever thought. I tried to take it to my dad. I wanted to make it official. Arrest the perps. We didn't need to show that they were kanimas and stuff to arrest them, we just needed to show that the humans had done it! Instead he fucking takes all my mythology books and the pictures I took and everything to the station to prove he'd been right. They locked him up, Miguel. They locked him up in Eichen House and I had to see him whither away through a plastic divider.”

 

Derek whined and licked at Stiles' chin. He hugged Derek, running his fingers through his fur in a way that made the wolf whine for more affection.

 

“Then they came after me,” Stiles choked out the words, burying his face in Derek's fur as he began to sob, “They decided since I fed all that shit to my dad that I... I was the one who was... and my obsession with police work, and all the stuff I had in my room from my investigation, and showing up at crime scenes, they decided it was proof! When I found out that they were coming for me I knew I had to run. It wasn't going to be a trial, not when I'd already handed them evidence and they were ignoring it! It was going to be a witch hunt.”

 

Stiles straightened up, running his hand down his face as he thought his way through his next words, “I got all I could together and started working things out in my head. I was a minor and they knew it, so I had time. Time for them to sift through things more to build an airtight case against me. I had no doubt they would, though. So I grabbed all my old camping gear, bought some more from Facebook Marketplace on the sly, taught myself a few survival techniques, and came out here. I was running blind. I just... I just wanted to _survive_. I never realized how much just surviving felt like _dying_.

 

“A few times I would sneak into town, get a hold of papers, keep appraised of things. I just wanted to come back into the world again. My dad's house was seized. The house I grew up in. With my mother's garden. Someone else lives there now. Lydia- I ran into her at one point- and she _actually spoke to me_. She told me she knew that I wasn't guilty. She said... she said she felt my dad die. A week before the day I spoke to her. I think I stopped loving her then. I didn't mean to. I... it wasn't _her_ fault that I lost my dad. She didn't kill him. I just... I went numb and she was the deliverer so... that was that. No more feelings for Lydia. Since she was the only girl I had them for I decided that made me gay, but I'm living in the fucking _woods_ so I guess that doesn't matter. I'm never going to get to... to hold someone. Be with them. Be held. Don't even know if I'm a top or a bottom, how fucked up is that? I know it's a silly thing to be upset about when I could fucking _die_ out here, but I just don't want to be alone anymore. You know? I don't want to die a virgin who only ever pined over someone.”

 

Derek pulled out of his tight grip to lick at his tears, hoping to comfort him some, and the human laughed a bit.

 

“You're sweet. I bet your owner misses you.”

 

Derek whined a bit, nuzzling up against him again. He hadn't been touched or held in years and he was in contact overload. The human was so tactile, constantly running his hands over Derek's fur and bringing their faces together. Derek wanted to lick away the salty scent of sorrow and bitter tang of regret that filled the tent. This poor human. He'd lost everything, just like Derek had.

 

“I'm glad you're here, Miguel,” Stiles told him, “Come on. Let's get dinner together. I bet you're hungry... assuming you didn't eat all the squirrels who have been raiding my pantry. Could you... eat all the squirrels raiding my pantry?”

 

Derek snorted in amusement and dismissal. The squirrels were _hibernating_. They weren't the ones raiding his pantry. Then again, Stiles probably knew that. He'd sounded like he was joking when he'd spoken, and he had an uncanny habit of being as sarcastic as possible. Stiles pulled his second pair of pants and boots back on and Derek lopped after him, close on his heels as he returned to the dwindling fire. Stiles dug through the coals and coaxed it back to life, building it up to a roaring blaze.

 

“I _really_ keep it going at night,” Stiles told him, “Build it high so that when I wake up it's the right size for breakfast. I eat the most at breakfast so I have the strength to keep going. So for now a bit of veggies to keep me healthy and you can have more jerky.”

 

Derek munched on a frozen stick of jerky, enjoying the feel on his teeth, while Stiles thawed out a few more strips. Derek was about to accept the warm ones when he noticed what Stiles was eating. Dried root vegetables. Shriveled carrots and potatoes with a bit of water. Derek wondered if his joke about the food being stolen was real. Stiles didn't seem to have much, quite possibly not enough to last the winter. He had gone out 'hunting and gathering' and come back with exactly nothing. Except firewood. Derek ignored the proffered meat and slipped away quickly. Stiles called out after him, but Derek ignored him. He'd be back a bit after nightfall and Stiles would be happier to see him when he brought food.

 

A few hours later Derek dragged the deer to Stiles' clearing and yipped to get him to come out of his tent. Stiles leaned out in just his single layer of clothes at first, calling for Miguel in a hopeful voice. Derek barked and Stiles disappeared inside. He came back out in boots and a coat, shivering in the bitter cold.

 

“Holy shit. Is that a deer?! Holy shit. Pack power!! I'm gonna get dressed. Wait here! Or better yet, start without me. I bet your teeth make gutting a deer _way_ easier.”

 

Derek agreed, which was why he had gutted it before dragging it to Stiles, leaving most of the guts as a decoy for scavengers and only taking the liver with him. He wanted it for Stiles. His fragile packmate needed the vitamins. When Stiles emerged again Derek was trying to tug off the skin to no avail. If he had been in his beta shift he could have just skinned it with claws, but in his full form he usually just ripped out a chunk and ate around it.

 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I could cure these furs! I still have some salt left! This is so amazing!” Stiles shooed Derek aside and started properly skinning the deer.

 

Derek hoped he hadn't hurt the fur Stiles needed, but he didn't seem worried. He skinned the deer easily and started pegging the fur down on the hard ground using rocks since he had no proper hanging frame. He quickly threw the meat into a pot to cook, stuck the liver on a stick to roast, and put it into the raring fire before starting to scrape the pelt. Derek watched happily while the human prepared the skin before abandoning it.

 

“I'm not even sure it will cure in this weather. I guess we'll find out.”

 

Stiles checked on the cooking meat throughout his work, and like Derek had hoped he pulled the liver out first and sat down while staring at it hungrily.

 

“I hate liver,” Stiles whispered, “But I need this. You okay sharing it?”

 

Derek wagged his tail and Stiles dug in with a hearty moan.

 

“Starvation makes everything delicious. I've been limiting my food. Meat in the morning. Veggies at night. Meat keeps me going, you know? Lets me hunt and gather more. Not that I've had much luck. Fucking freezing ass winter. Where did you even find this deer? I haven't seen any in months.”

 

Derek snorted. Stupid human. They weren't going to hang out _where he'd been hunting them_. Of course they left his territory. You don't shit where you eat! You hunt _away_ from your den, so that when you can't due to injury or cubs you can hunt nearby.

 

 _Cubs_.

 

Derek pushed the thought away. That way lied madness, on a trail that reeked of smoke and sounded like frightened screams trapped behind a burning hot wall.

 

“Miguel, this is the beginning of a _beautiful_ relationship,” Stiles grinned.

 

Derek washed up by rolling in the snow and then drying by the fire while Stiles finished preparing the pelt, hanging the meat, and then feeding the daunted fire. Stiles was shaking with cold by the time he returned to his tent, and Derek resolved to curl up with him even if it would be rather stuffy. Since he had had to remove his gloves to work, Stiles' fingers were blue tipped and shaking so hard he could barely get his shoes off. Derek whined in concern. He breathed on them, rubbed them together, and tucked them in his armpits. He looked so tired and drawn, shaking as he tried to gather the last of his energy just to get into bed. He stripped out of his outer layer and slipped into the sleeping bag. He lifted it and called to Derek, teeth chattering, and the wolf slipped into the bedding. Derek had to clamor over him to turn around and it got a bit awkward, with Stiles yelping when stepped on, but finally Derek lay beside him with his head outside the bedding and no small amount of static cling. Stiles pressed against him, burying his face in the werewolf's fur.

 

“Thank gods you're here. I... I don't know how much longer I was going to make it.”

 

Derek whined and licked his chomps, unaccountably attached to the human already. The shivering body pressed against him, fingers dug into fur, slowly began to warm up. Eventually he was sleeping peacefully, his eyes closed and breath a warm puff on Derek's shoulder. He was so damn fragile and he'd survived out in the world alone for _years_. Derek was just relieved they had found each other.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles slid into his sleeping bag and grinned as Miguel squirmed in through the open bottom. They'd learned a few weeks in that it was just less bruising if Miguel could crawl in from the bottom of the sleeping bag. With his body heat it was no huge loss to have the bottom unzipped, especially since Stiles slept wrapped around his body with his feet far from the bottom.

 

Another thing Stiles had discovered was that Miguel sometimes... changed. Stiles woke up when he felt the bed and his bedmate shudder and shift in the middle of the night. An overheated wolf went from furry to... skin? Stiles sat up, staring down at Miguel in the light of the lamp to find that the wolf had become a _man_. A man with a mountainous beard and huge eyebrows. His lips were relaxed in sleep, but his forehead still had signs of tension. Some far away sorrow marred his brow. Stiles stared down at his face for several breathless, stunned seconds before he suddenly realized... the man in his bed was _naked_. Naked as the day he had been born from the fires of Mount Olympus. Fucking hell, he was gorgeous! From the way the bag had shifted down he could only see his arm and side and part of his hip, but it was enough to get a young man long alone and hot for male flesh to go from chilly and tired to raging boner.

 

Stiles stared down at what his brain was slowly processing as a _fucking werewolf_ and tried to decide if it was super creepy to jerk off. The decision was basically taken from him when the gorgeous young man rolled over and stretched his arms above his head. Stiles was on the edge of climax just from the damn blankets rubbing across his crotch! Stiles plunged his hand into his sleep pants and the briefs below, telling himself it wasn't non-con if he didn't _touch_ the guy. He stared at that long expanse of muscular chest and stomach and shook through his first orgasm in far too long after a few quick strokes. He had enough sense to cup his hand over the tip to catch the mess, scooping it up with the other hand as well so that he could lick his digits clean. It was the easiest- and warmest- disposal method he had for his spunk in the middle of fucking winter.

 

Stiles slid back down into the bed, careful to keep his hands in appropriate spots. He wasn't going to violate his friend. Miguel was the only creature- person?- he had. The only one he could trust. His lifeline and his savior. He had caught food for Stiles every few days, sharing his meals and being generally snuggly. He was a cranky creature, prone to making loud grumbling and groaning sounds when Stiles annoyed him. He did _not_ play fetch. He would, however, listen endlessly while Stiles chattered. This was his friend. His species didn't change that, and Stiles _would_ respect his body.

 

His smoking hot, unbelievably gorgeous body.

 

Over the next few nights Stiles noted a pattern while he waited for his werewolf companion to trust him enough to share the truth with him. The transformation to human was involuntary. Miguel shifted when his fur got too hot for him inside the sleeping bag. It made sense since he was wearing his winter coat and it was designed to _keep_ the heat in. So he shifted to human in his sleep to cool off and Stiles only jerked off... every time. In absolute shame. He was hot for that bod, but he wasn't about to take advantage. Miguel was his _friend_. Not his sex tape. Stiles needed to get a handle on his hormones, and the best way to do that was by talking it out. If Miguel rejected him he could just... get over it. Hopefully. Without losing his only friend.

 

Damn it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was a fucking pervert. Derek had noticed a few weeks in that Stiles would sneak a wank while he was sleeping. At first he'd thought it had been a wet dream, but the leavings were _all_ over the human's hands and mouth, and only a bit was in his pants. If it had been involuntary than Stiles would have most of it in his clothes, not his mouth, even should he use that method to clean up. Derek couldn't really blame him. He was a teenager, after all, even if his story indicated he was technically an adult. So his actions at night weren't surprising so much as uncomfortable for Derek since the young man was getting off while _sharing a bed roll with him._

 

What _was_ surprising, was Stiles sighing as if the world were bearing down on his shoulders one day and turning to Derek with a solemn grimace on his face.

 

“We need to talk,” Stiles told him, “Can you go into the sleeping bag and transform? I don't have clothes that will fit you, but you can squeeze into some of mine if it will make the conversation more comfortable. Cause this is probably going to be a super awkward conversation, not gonna lie. Still, you'd probably be less squished in the bag alone. I won't be weird. Weirder than usual. Okay? So... um... do you want to do it alone or something?”

 

Derek stared up at him, head cocked to one side while Stiles gave him a discomfited look and poked at his breakfast miserably.

 

“Come on. Please? I need to actually _talk_ to you, not just _at_ you.”

 

Derek whined in confusion. He wasn't shocked that the Jr. Detective had figured out that he was a werewolf. Stiles had already been aware of the supernatural world, and Derek was no dumb beast. What frustrated Derek was that he _couldn't_ change back. He was stuck this way and had been for... Derek thought back... seven seasons? Maybe more? Nudity wasn't stopping him from changing back, his inner wolf was. And for far too long his inner wolf had been his only self.

 

“Please?” Stiles pleaded, “I know you must have... smelled things... geez, this is awkward as hell! Please, just change so we can talk?”

 

Derek thought for a moment and then decided to try something that he'd never done before. He moved to the wood pile, picked up a short but thick stick, and carried it over to the cleared out area around the fire. Derek leaned down and wrote in the earth there with the stick. He couldn't see what he was doing, and when he pulled back it looked... well, awful. It was barely legible, but Stiles read it anyway.

 

“Can't? Can't what?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes hard and Stiles laughed, “You're so freaking cute. Uh. I mean. You know. Dogs are cute. Er. Wolves. Anyway. Come on. Change back.”

 

Derek huffed in frustration and tried again.

 

“Can't... charge? Change! Can't change? Uh, I hate to blow your cover, but I've seen you change. You do it at night when you get too hot.”

 

Derek paused in surprise, hope blossoming through him until reality hit hard. No wonder Stiles wanted to talk about the _smells_. Derek pulled back in horror at the realization of what had gotten Stiles suddenly so hot and bothered on a nightly basis.

 

“No! No! No! I swear! It's not like that!” Stiles pleaded, “I never, like, touched you! I wouldn't! I mean, not only is that way rapey, I don't even know if you're _into_ guys! Shit, this is not going how I'd hoped. Please just talk to me?”

 

Derek huffed in frustration and patted a paw down at the ground where he'd written 'can't change' again. Stiles frowned.

 

“Wait, is this like a Howl's Moving Castle thing?! Like, you can only change unconsciously?! Aww, shit, I was hoping to actually talk this out with you. Okay. So. Just listen, then, okay Miguel? I swear I have an explanation.”

 

Derek growled in frustration, scuffed out his previous words, and wrote his name to the best of his ability.

 

“Devon? Your name is Devon? Huh. You don't look like a Devon.”

  
Derek sighed and tried again.

 

“Derek?” Stiles nodded, “Yeah, that fits you better.”

 

Derek nodded sharply and then nudged Stiles' leg with his nose to indicate he should continue.

 

“Okay. So here's the deal. I've been alone for, like, four years now. It sucks a lot. I'm lonely as hell and, frankly, super depressed. Then you come along and you're _awesome_. You feed me, keep me warm, and I'm pretty sure you're my best friend now because, wow, are you a great listener. Kind of a necessity when you're friends with me. So then a while ago you went and, like, changed while we were sleeping. I woke up and... wow. I mean, I'm not trying to be a perv, but you're fucking _gorgeous_.”

 

Derek gave him the judgmental glare that required.

 

“I didn't touch you!” Stiles protested, “I basically came in my pants, like, immediately. And I'm sorry about that. It's creepy, but I'm fucking _lonely,_ and you've got one helluva god bod. I... I won't do it again, okay? If that's not something you want.”

 

Derek's first reaction was to snarl at him to keep his damn hands to himself, but he took in Stiles' expression. It was a mixture of longing, sorrow, and regret. He _hadn't_ touched him. Just... jerked off to his naked body. It wasn't nice to do, that was for damn sure, but Derek wasn't honestly bothered more than just surprised and sad. The sad part was surprising. Derek lowered his head to examine that feeling a bit. The last time he'd touched someone it had been... awful, to be honest. He'd finished, but it had been after miserably pleasuring her for hours while she zapped him with a violet wand and mocked his inability to get her off. He'd gone home with his legs shaking, his heart aching, and his head confused. Then she'd murdered his family. He'd never gotten the chance to love and be loved in return. Stiles had been overcome by lust at the sight of the first human male in _years,_ and Derek could understand that. If he saw Stiles naked- and clean- he'd probably be just as hot and bothered. That being said, Derek didn't have the ability to respond in his sleep. He didn't have the ability to consent. To touch in return. He didn't want Stiles to continue.

 

Derek picked up the stick and scraped into the dirt.

 

_Stop_

 

“Okay,” Stiles' eyes dropped, tears gathering in the corners, “I... I never should have... I'm really sorry.”

 

Derek licked his cheek in forgiveness and Stiles smiled at him softly.

 

“Well, it wasn't going to last anyway. You only change when you're asleep and too hot. That doesn't exactly make for a great relationship. When you're overheated in winter is when I'm smelly and wrapped in layers. When I'm finally able to get presentable and be... uh... well, I won't get naked in front of you now I know you're sentient, but my point is that you'll have shed and be able to cool off in the water then. We definitely won't be sleeping all snuggled together in the heat! Oh... uh... will you still... keep me warm? Please? I really won't do that again.”

 

Derek nodded and Stiles sighed in relief.

 

“We need a communication system. I'll try to limit it to yes and no questions. Two barks for yes, one for no. Fair?”

 

Derek barked twice and Stiles grinned broadly, “I'm glad we talked, but I'm sorry at the same time. You really are gorgeous. I wish... I just wish we'd met some other way. Like around town. Maybe if Scott were still alive to be my conscience, you know? And my dad... he'd have been so fascinated by you. I never got to tell him I like guys, but I have _no_ doubt that he'd have been chill about it. He just wanted me to be happy... and look what I am? Nothing. I'm just... existing. Maybe I should just...”

 

Stiles looked up into the trees and Derek whined in worry. Up in the trees, not far from the food stash, hanging from the thick branch that held his pulley system, was a noose. Sometimes Stiles stared at it for hours. Not this time. This time Derek nipped his leg to get him to yelp and chase him about, pretending to be angry, shouting and laughing as Derek took off at a quick run through the snow. Stiles threw snowballs after him and Derek relented and chased them.

 

“Woo! Finally!” Stiles threw another and another, then grabbed a stick. Derek brought it back and they played for a good while before collapsing in exhaustion, “Thank you, Derek.”

 

Derek's heart fluttered happily at the sound of his _real_ name, and he favored Stiles with a lupine smile. He was going to keep his little pack safe. Forever.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was fucking torture. Derek was stretched out next to Stiles, naked and gorgeous, his happy trail mocking Stiles as it disappeared beneath the blankets. Stiles rolled over onto his other side and resolutely did _not_ touch himself.

 

Until morning.

 

Then he hurried out, stoked up the fire, and threw Derek a broken grimace, “Uh... I kinda need a moment. Could you... go somewhere?”

 

Derek gave him a suspicious glance but walked into the woods. The second he was out of sight Stiles opened his pants and began to jerk off, using the heat of the fire to keep his balls from freezing off. He panted as he worked his spit-slicked hand over his member. Groaning in agony as his dick ached from being hard and untouched all night. He had a serious case of blue balls. Stiles palmed them, rolling them with one hand while his needs vamped up. He wished he could finger himself, but that was an activity best saved for summer and a dip in the lake.

 

Gods. The lake.

 

Derek dripping with water, his olive skin darkened by the summer sun. His hear wet and clinging as he ran a hand down his beard and smiled at Stiles before beckoning him closer. _Come and swim, Stiles. I'll keep you warm._

 

“Uh! Fuck! Ah!” Stiles came into the fire, making it spit in alarm as he splattered the logs with his release. He quickly licked off his fingers and pulled up his pants, knees shaking. It wasn't until he headed to the log pile to feed the fire that he realized Derek was peering at him out of the bushes.

 

“Oh no,” Stiles groaned, “I'm only human, Derek! I _had_ to! I didn't touch you or do... that... while you were sleeping! I asked you to leave for a reason!”

 

Derek scooted out of the bush, ears lowered in obvious remorse, “Oh, fuck, are you traumatized?”

 

Derek barked once, meaning no, and Stiles sighed in relief.

 

“Well, just... next time I ask you to leave... wait until I call you back, okay? I'll shout for you when I'm done. Okay?”

 

Derek barked twice and moved away, seeming to forget all about Stiles' forbidden urges. They spent the rest of their day doing their respective tasks in easy harmony. Stiles hunted for nuts and tubers along the edge of the frozen lake, fished, and chopped firewood. Derek hunted for meat and turned up dry that day. He usually caught something, but some days it just didn't happen. Of course, it might have been because they had plenty. Perhaps he was just going for a run while Stiles worked himself to the bone.

 

Derek always snuck up on Stiles when he returned to camp. It didn't even seem to be intentional. He just _appeared_ and Stiles would shout and occasionally fall over.

  
“Whoa! Dude! Give a guy a heart attack!” Stiles scolded without malice, “I caught some fish for us. Well. I say caught. What I actually mean is chipped them out of the ice where they were frozen. So... dinner! I'm up for a change, how about you?”

 

Derek gave Stiles a lupine grimace and Stiles laughed, “Don't like fish.”

 

_No._

 

Stiles laughed at his single bark and shrugged, “More for me! Wish I had some spices. I fucking hate bland fish.”

 

Derek disappeared and Stiles narrowed his eyes after him. No way in hell he had spices. Stiles turned back to the food and pulled the fish out of the fire and blew on it gently. Derek reappeared from the woods and presented Stiles with a large leaf containing.

 

“SHIT?!” Stiles tossed the leaf back towards the woods while Derek huffed in amusement, “Hey, I don't look a gift meal in the mouth, okay?! I don't like bland fish, but it's still a change in diet and... you're an asshole!”

 

Derek took off as Stiles threw some sticks at him in frustration.

 

“Wash your mouth!” Stiles shouted after him, “Shit-breath!”

 

Stiles chuckled to himself as he sat back down to his meal. Derek was an asshole alright, but he kept things fun and reminded Stiles pretty regularly that there were worse things in life. Like eating frozen bear scat, which was _technically_ edible. Technically.

 

When Derek returned from his victory lap around the camp Stiles gave him an amused glance.

 

“I can't believe you sometimes,” Stiles roughed up his neck, “You're really something. Hey, I have a question... um... how do I phrase this? Is that whole turning into a werewolf with a bite thing real?”

 

_Yes._

 

Stiles nodded at the double bark and then shifted to face Derek more, “Are there other werewolves out there?”

 

_Yes._

 

“Do you... do you have a pack?”

 

_No._

 

“Why? Wait, shit, that won't work. Um... did you ever?”

 

_Yes._

 

“Are they...” Stiles stopped. Derek's ears were drooping and he was looking up at him with big, wounded eyes, “Shit. I'm so sorry, Derek.”

 

Derek let Stiles draw him in for a brief hug before pulling away again. He went to the pulley system and nudged it.

 

“Oh! Right, your dinner. Sorry, I forgot.”

 

Stiles lowered down the meat and began warming some over the fire for Derek. There was a lull in the conversation for a few minutes and then Stiles picked up where he left off.

 

“So. Will you do it?”

 

Derek gave him an annoyed glance.

 

“Will you... bite me. Turn me. So I can survive out here better and be... be your packmate.”

 

A series of expressions crossed Derek's face that Stiles didn't even know he could make, settling on... skittish? Derek looked around him as if spooked, whined in the back of his neck, and then took off into the woods.

 

“Wait! Der!” Stiles called.

 

Stiles sat down with a huff and poked at the hunk of meat he'd been defrosting. He didn't want it to go to waste but he couldn't re-freeze it. Hopefully Derek would come back for dinner rather than go catch his last meal of the day.

 

Stiles was just about to give up on waiting and turn in when Derek returned with... a box? Derek put the box down on the bench beside Stiles and dug into the meat he'd had sitting on Derek's stone 'plate'. The box was made of wood and charred in sections. It had a metal clasp and a handle, almost as if it were a briefcase. Stiles clicked the latch and opened the box to reveal a book within. A triskelle was on the cover of the book, and when he opened the brittle pages he found a detailed drawing of a wolf. Stiles turned the pages curiously, overwhelmed by the information in front of him. Here was everything he could ever have wanted to know about werewolves!

 

Sadly the sun was setting, so Stiles carried the precious tomb into the tent with Derek. Derek slipped into the bed and Stiles joined him after stripping down to his thermals. He kept his sweater on and turned up the lantern so he could see. He was too excited to wait till morning. Stiles read and read, looking for whatever Derek wanted him to find. He was still awake when Derek's body rippled and shifted back to human. Stiles had been reading about the transformation and how a werewolf needed an anchor to keep it under control. Stiles was sure Derek could be his anchor, but maybe he could be Derek's? Then again, he was human _right then_ , so maybe waking him up would help. It might trigger the change.

 

Stiles reached out and gave Derek a shake, “Hey. Derek. Wake up, dude.”

 

“Don't call me dude.”

 

Derek opened one eye and gave Stiles a disgusted grimace. Stiles had always imagined Derek's voice to be rough, like whiskey and cigar roughened singers. Instead it was soft like a fleece blanket, not nearly as deep as he'd expected, and absolutely perfect. Stiles stared down at him as he rolled over and snored and realized with absolute horror that he was in love with someone who spent most of his time covered in fur and pissing on bushes.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke up to someone shaking him firmly and blinked up at Stiles' wide, gorgeous eyes. Everything seemed brighter, more colorful, over saturated, and Derek blinked in confusion a few times.

 

“You awake, sourwolf?” Stiles asked.

 

“What?” Derek asked, and then gaped at the sound of his own voice after _years_ of having forgotten what it sounded like.

 

Stiles gave him a triumphant grin, but it quickly morphed to a pout when Derek's body transformed against his will.

 

“Nooooo!” Stiles whined melodramatically, “Focus on me! I'll be your anchor, Derek. Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alpha, Beta, Omega.”

 

Derek growled in frustration and gave Stiles a kick. He was tired and wanted to sleep, not attempt to explain to Stiles, without words, why turning him was a terrible fucking idea. Except... he was an alpha, and what alphas craved more than anything else was _pack._ The problem was he had never bitten anyone. He'd been too devastated for too long. If he was going to give into his urges and turn Stiles, he wanted him fully informed. Derek nudged the book with his nose and rolled over to go back to sleep. It had been exhausting exhuming the book from his family's home. Emotionally, more than physically. He hadn't been back there since right after the fire, when instinct had driven him to search for survivors and the smell of burnt flesh was still high in the air. He'd known a few things had survived, but most of it had been things that would do him no good out in the wild so he had simply left it until now.

 

“Fine. Fully informed Stiles, coming up,” Stiles sighed, “But you still need an anchor.”

 

An anchor wouldn't help. Derek's anchor was anger, and it had been for long before his family died. The problem was trauma. Derek couldn't turn because he was broken inside, and he wasn't at all convinced that Stiles could help him heal.

 

Well... maybe a little.

 

Morning loomed with Stiles still snoring away after having stayed up all night reading. Derek wished he could help. If he had hands he could pour more fat into the lantern. He could make his packmate breakfast. He could sit down and talk this through with him to make sure that Stiles was making an informed decision and would be happy with the results.

 

Derek wasn't sure if he should leave the tent for long. Stiles might get cold. He left to piss and carefully put a log on the fire before returning to find his friend curled up and whining. Stiles was so thin that the cold bothered him extensively. If he were a werewolf, even if he were only able to reach beta shift, he wouldn't be as cold. Derek's teeth ached with the urge to bite down, but he had to control himself. He remembered all too well the werewolf that had rampaged through Beacon Hills, killing off even his own brethren. Derek suspected that Stiles' best friend Scott was that turned omega the feral alpha werewolf had murdered. Stiles had already lost his friends, family, and freedom due to the supernatural world, he didn't want Stiles to lose his mind as well.

 

Derek slipped back into the sleeping bag with Stiles and the young man went octopus on him, wrapping all around him lovingly. Derek sighed contentedly and Stiles' warm breath teased the fur at his ruff. He could love this impetuous young man, even though the most of his flesh he'd seen had been his pretty face, sensual fingers, and... well... his cock. Derek was falling for a personality. For all he knew beneath his clothes Stiles was skeletal and covered in fungus. Although he'd probably have smelled any fungal infections, even beneath the funk of Stiles not having bathed for months.

 


	6. Chapter 6

A month had passed. Parts of the book were dry as the bark on the trees but Stiles had still finished it two weeks ago. And one week ago the frost had broken. Derek now spent most of the night in his human form as the tent was getting warmer and warmer. They kept the lantern off at night now, but Stiles still lit it when Derek transformed and had memorized his face. He still respectfully kept him covered even when he tried to push the blankets aside in his sleep. Finally the day came when Derek huffed in frustration and refused to join him under the covers. Stiles gave him a weak smile and agreed that it was warm enough for Stiles to sleep alone.

 

“I probably smell pretty damn ripe by now anyway,” Stiles laughed weakly.

 

Derek gave him a quick double bark and Stiles winced.

  
“Yeah, I get it. I'm... uh... sorry. Just being weird. Ha ha. Right. Um. Do you want something to lie on, or...?”

 

Derek huffed and lied down, curling up on the floor comfortably. Stiles sighed as he sank into the suddenly too-roomy sleeping bag, stretched out and tried in vein to sleep. The next morning-or closer to afternoon since he'd slept in- Stiles woke up to find that it was bearably warm out. It wasn't swimming weather, but it sure as hell was bathing water. Even if he had to heat the fucking water for the whole day.

 

Thanks to Derek Stiles was no longer starving. He normally would be frantic during the first bright day of spring to catch waking animals for food, gather the first bits of plant life that he could eat, perhaps raid someone's farm for seeds along the sides of their fields. This time he was frantic to get _clean_. Stiles came out of the tent with a head full of steam, pulled down some jerky from above, ripped off a chunk and started chewing, and then pulled out a large metal washing bin from the confines of his lean-to. It had been on someone's porch as 'farmhouse' decoration and Stiles had stolen it, hoping that it wasn't a family heirloom or something. It had been perfect for washing both his clothes and himself.

 

Stiles stuffed all his dirty clothes, his fire starter kit, and the tea kettle into the big metal wash bin and hefted the heavy container. The path to the lake was almost as worn as the one to the creek where he got fresh running water whenever it wasn't frozen. Stiles set himself up by the lake, noting that there was still a fair amount of ice. He was definitely _not_ going swimming! Stiles dumped his clothes onto the big, flat-ish rock he'd dubbed his sunning spot, and filled his big tub partway with water. Dragging it back partway onto the shore wasn't easy, but he did his best. It was all about how much water he put in.

 

Stiles set the tea kettle up to boil and threw in the tied up bundle of herbs and flowers he used to freshen up his clothes. He started a fire on the shore far enough away from the water to avoid being put out by the occasional windblown wave. Stiles took each item to the water itself first, dipping it in several times before dropping it into the washing bin. He gave his underwear a few extra dunks. When the kettle whistled Stiles poured the contents in over his clothes and gave them a stir with a bark-free stick before refilling it and making more. He repeated the actions until all his clothes had been soaked for a bit in the scented solution. When he had them all washed and soaked up he paused. He'd used his wash line to capture Derek. With a bit of frustration Stiles hung up the clothes by laying them across bushes and over branches. His last pair of socks was absolutely decimated, not having survived the washing process. He gave it a glum stare and turned back to the water. He dumped out the old water and set the kettle to boil again. This time Stiles was going to wash _himself_ , and as he stared into the cold water he determined he needed a rinse first.

 

Stiles stripped out of the clothes he was wearing, took a few breaths to steel himself, and took a running jump off the sunning rock. The water was _frigid!_ Stiles held off the gasp reflex of being plunged in icy water and pushed himself to the surface. He waded back out, shaking from head to toe, and climbed into his bin half-full of cold lake water. He was shaking from head to toe, but it was nothing compared to how cold the winter had been. The sun was warm, at least. When the whistle went off Stiles carefully poured the boiling water into the tub and shifted around with a sigh of relief. It made quite the difference. He put another kettle on while washing up. He had to get out again and bend over to get the floral water onto his head, but he managed it. When the second kettle finished boiling he dumped the bin, refilled it again, added the kettle of wash, and gave himself another scrub over with his wash rag. He felt _clean_ again!

 

Stiles stretched out on his sunning rock, shivering in the cool air, and let the sun bake him. His pasty white body needed the vitamin D, and this was the easiest way to dry off since he didn't own a towel. Waste of fabric in a world where every bit was precious. He'd had to shred it for rags a while back. Once Stiles was dry- and had sunned both sides of his body- he stood up to head back to camp and... remembered he had a camp-mate. He couldn't go walking back there naked like he usually did in the warmer months! Not only did he not want to damage his relationship with Derek, but he didn't want him to see him in the chill with his balls trying ot climb back into his body!

 

Stiles sighed. All his clothes except the filthy ones he'd been wearing were soaking wet, and the filthy ones were gross. He'd only left one pair dry in case the weather turned suddenly. Dirty was better than hypothermia, but he _really_ didn't want to put on dirty clothes if he didn't have to! Stiles had no choice but to wait until his clothes were dry, which might take a good part of the day! He could tie one of his long-sleeved shirts around him like a wet loincloth and just deal with it. Then again, a nice lazy day didn't sound _awful_. Stiles wished he'd brought the book with him to re-read, but he could certainly spend some time daydreaming like he did on rare days of lethargy. Or he could forage, but that might lead him to wandering into Derek. Speaking of Derek. He'd been away when Stiles woke up, so he might be anywhere.

 

“Hey Derek!” Stiles shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Don't come by the lake! I'm naked!”

 

There. At least now Derek wouldn't be caught unawares if he came towards the lake. Especially since thoughts of the werewolf had him deciding on a nice, long wank. That would warm him up, too.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Derek had a fantastic run. The animals were waking up and Derek was happily scouting out their movement patterns both near their den and away from it. Derek was sure that come the full swing of summer he would be able to provide Stiles with a steady food supply to plump him up for next winter and give Stiles the time to do things like build a more secure shelter. Of course, then he might not _need_ Derek, but he was sure that he could make their odd pack work regardless. Certainly Stiles seemed attached to him. He'd sighed sadly when Derek had decided he'd smother if he were stuffed in a sleeping bag for one more night. At the very least they were great friends. Stiles teased him constantly and Derek had taken to pranking him occasionally.

 

Derek returned to camp to find the tent open and airing out, the lean-to's mosquito mesh pinned back in place instead of the tarp. Several tarps were unpacked and it looked as if Stiles had planned on setting up the bathing area and then gotten distracted. Typical Stiles.

 

Derek headed to the lake after sniffing around a bit and found Stiles passed out on a rock. Naked. The first thought that crossed Derek's mind was that Stiles had slept in that morning and now was sleeping again! He'd be up all night. Then Derek registered the nudity and the scent in the air. Stiles had apparently had a good wash, but his home made soap was _not_ soap no matter what he said. Still, he was clean, but the scent of semen had been reimposed on his clean body.

 

And what a body.

 

Derek felt guilty for staring despite the fact that werewolves didn't view nudity the same way humans did, but told himself that turn around was fair play. Stiles had gotten an eyeful of his body, and now Derek was inadvertently staring at Stiles' naked form. Derek had pictured a skinny, ribs showing, shaky, weakling. Instead he saw wiry muscle with pale skin that was dotted with beauty marks. He wanted to lick and bite every single one, but Stiles wasn't his. He couldn't do such things. They weren't even the same _species_ at the moment.

 

Derek might have been aroused, but instead he was hit with a sense of overwhelming sorrow. He wanted to be human again. He wanted to stand on two legs and look into Stiles' eyes. He wanted to have hands to caress his cheek, to hold him close in the night. He wanted lips to kiss him with and a tongue to give him pleasure.

 

Derek backed away, pain making his chest tight, as he was suddenly hit with a longing to have his old body back. He could barely picture it, barely remember what he'd looked like as a 16 year old human boy with his wolf fully in check. He was broken and lonely and wanted Stiles to hold him and comfort him. He almost stepped forward, a whine in his throat, to ask to be held despite Stiles' nudity, but then he stepped on something sharp.

 

Derek hissed in alarm and glanced down to see... human feet. Human feet! Derek stared in shock at thick, stocky legs covered in far more body hair than he'd remembered having as a teen. He also had a helluva lot more _muscle_. Derek had been skinny with the beginnings of a six pack as a teenager, but now he was stacked. His arms when flexed were ridiculous with visible veins straining under taut skin. Derek stared down at a six pack that looked more like a twelve pack and down to a large, limp cock nestled in thick wiry curls. Derek shook his head in shock and reached up to explore his face. He had a full beard. Fucking _weird!_

 

Derek stepped forward again to call to Stiles and show him that he was human again, he could talk! Laugh! They could hold each other!

 

Then he stalled.

 

Pack. Pack came first. Pack always came first. The last time Derek had forgotten that he'd lost his entire pack due to one selfish, foolish decision. Stiles had needs that weren't being met out in this bright, wide, open prison. He couldn't leave, but _Derek could_.

 

He had no idea how long he'd be human, but he was already moving fast in case it ended soon. Derek's heart pounded as he pulled clothes off the bushes and stuffed his thicker body into the wet items and hurried back to camp. He located the flip flops he'd seen stashed in Stiles' lean-to and put them on, glad that they were more of a universal size than the _very_ tight clothes he was wearing. At least the pants stretched. The shirt felt as if it were cutting off his arm's circulation. He looked like a homeless person, but it was better than nothing.

 

Derek set off at a fast run before gaining confidence moving on two legs and started moving at werewolf speed. He was just holding the flip flops, but if all worked out he could replace them with proper shoes. Derek made it to the school and looked around himself, relieved that it was late enough in the evening that no one was nearby. He steeled himself, hoping the beta shift didn't become a full shift, and brought out his claws. It worked!

 

Derek opened his families secret vault beneath the school, something that had existed long before the school, and slipped down into it's depths. It was so very strange to be back there again, but he ignored things like family heirlooms and headed straight for the locker that held the emergency cash. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. There was far more in bearer bonds, but the liquid cash was what Derek needed in the here and now. There were also passports for himself and the rest of his family members. Derek spent a few seconds staring at their pictures before forcing himself to focus. He grabbed his own in case he needed it for anything he was about to do. He had no idea how much time he had, but if worse came to worse he could carry it all back. Derek shoved a wad in the pocket of the sweat pants with his passport and then hung the rest over his shoulder in the go-bag it was stored in. He left the place, locking it up tight, relieved that he had succeeded in the first step of his plan.

 

The next step was harder. He could either head back home with the money, which was useless to Stiles, or he could make use of it in the here and now. Derek chose the latter and hoped that he could keep his human shape for long enough. Derek headed to the nearest camping store and started throwing things into a cart. A tent heater, first and foremost, one that was solar powered with a wind-up option so that Stiles wasn't in danger of suffocating in the night. It might not always work, but it would work enough that they'd survive and California winters weren't overly long. The frigid part was usually short, but of course it had been longer and colder this past year which was what had driven Stiles to desperation. Now he need not be afraid. Derek wasn't worried about food, but he was concerned about water so he got a fair amount of filtration tablets so Stiles could drink the water without having to boil it first. A sleeping bag. A proper _winter_ one, meant for below freezing temperatures. More long johns and socks because Stiles' were threadbare. He mourned not having thought to check Stiles' shoe size and instead bought himself a pair of boots. Stiles might fit in them, but if Derek managed to go human regularly he would have boots in his size to wear into town. A wind-up flashlight. A water bladder for storage of said filtered water. A new tarp and a length of rope. He could come back for more- hopefully- if he had to another day.

 

Derek was feeling particularly triumphant as he took the pile of loot he'd collected to the edge of the preserve and stashed it in a thick bush for safekeeping beneath the brand new tarp. Derek took a deep breath after having put on his new socks and boots and assessed his control. So far he was good. He had his wolf under wraps. He could do _more_ for Stiles!

 

Derek headed into town again and this time he went to a home improvement store. It was about to close so he knew he didn't have much time. Derek quickly got a basic tool kit, two boxes of nails and two of screws, plenty of caulk, and then talked to the clerk about delivering lumber. The man was tired and at the end of his shift. He clearly wanted Derek to come back tomorrow, but Derek threw money at the problem and the guy was more compliant with his manager over his shoulder excited about the sales. He couldn't get the lumber back himself so he had little choice but to have it delivered. He chose his family's old house. He still visited it as it was part of his territory, but it wasn't a safe place for Stiles to stay. The police popped in occasionally to chase off the teenagers that went there to get high, so both of those groups were an issue for a man on the run from the law. However, if they delivered the wood to the house than Derek and Stiles could drag it someplace to build. It might not work out if Derek couldn't maintain his form, but if he managed it he could help him build a proper shelter. Even a small shed would be better than what he had. The delivery was scheduled for three days away and Derek threw in a purchase of the utility trailer it would be delivered on to keep that manager interested in staying open. Not only would that make dragging the wood to a new location easier via a few access roads, but they might be able to utilize it as a sort of foundation if they could get it into the woods as well. Just remove the wheels and sink it into the ground and instant floor!

 

Derek hurried off with his bags of tools and supplies. He stashed the next batch in the woods with the rest of it and started trying to decide how to get it all home. The money had to go first. The longer he had it out the higher risk someone would come across it. It was the only thing that was irreplaceable since cashing in the bonds would draw even more attention than a weird dude with lots of money. Derek slung it over his shoulder, grabbed a few of the lighter supplies and stuffed them inside, and took off at a fast run to return to their den. He couldn't wait to find Stiles, to hold him, to tell him how gorgeous he thought he was. With them on equal footing, perhaps they could start the relationship that Stiles had hinted would be possible if he were human. The very idea of holding him had Derek's cock stirring.

 

_I should have bought lube.  
_

Derek was nearly back at the camp. He could hear Stiles calling for him. His excitement had him grinning so broadly his face hurt from the unfamiliar action. He was about to burst through the woods when a sudden fear hit him from the deep recesses of his mind. Kate. Using him to get to his family. How she'd discarded him when she didn't need him anymore. How Stiles, with these supplies, wouldn't need _Derek_ anymore. Not for warmth, and certainly he hadn't wanted a human companion. He'd wanted a compliant furry pet.

 

Derek's legs went weak beneath him, he stumbled a few steps, dropped the things in his arms, and fell to the forest floor as fear consumed him once again.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Derek! Yo, Miguel, where you at!” Stiles called, “Here asshole, asshole, asshole! Come on, man! I'm worried!”

 

Stiles whistled loudly and then sighed in frustration. Derek was always back before nightfall, but that had been nearly two hours ago. Of course, the werewolf wasn't exactly helpless. Not at all. No, that was _Stiles_. Stiles was helpless. True, he'd been taking care of himself for years, but he had also had an entire month where he nearly died because he'd broken his arm and had barely been able to get water let alone food. Then another where he'd sliced up his leg on a rock after having fallen and had nearly died until Derek had come along to keep him warm and fed. Having Derek there to make his life easier had fully opened Stiles' eyes to how miserable his existence had been. Just having company was intense, let alone the ease with which Derek provided him with food and warmth. Stiles felt his chest tightening in fear at the idea of losing Derek forever. If he'd decided his responsibility to Stiles ended with him surviving winter than Stiles was going to be devastated. He couldn't really blame him; Stiles had violated his privacy more than once and in the creepiest of ways.

 

Just as Stiles was working himself up to a panic attack a devastated howl rent the air, so deep and powerful that Stiles had to slam his hands over his ears. An alpha werewolf's howl. He recognized it from Peter's rampage. Stiles uncovered his ears and took off after the sound, following it to where he was sure Derek was in danger. He'd picked up the heavy rowan log he used to defend himself along the way without even thinking about it, but as Stiles came upon Derek he found that he'd brought the wrong tool. He should have brought a knife, because what Derek really needed was to be cut out of the clothes he'd somehow gotten himself tangled in.

 

“What the... Derek?!” Stiles dropped to his knees and started helping the werewolf out of the clothes, “Why are you in my clothes? I thought these blew away. Dude. Hold still!”

 

Derek stopped struggling and instead put his head up and began whining, yipping, growling, and yelping in obvious misery. It didn't seem to be physically pain based, more like emotional. Derek was devastated about something, and loudly complaining about it to Stiles and any animal that would listen. He sounded like an offended husky. Stiles helped untangle him as he tried to comfort the miserable wolf.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, buddy, you're super upset. Did you... were you shifted? To human form?”

 

Derek whined sadly, giving him the most doleful expression.

 

“And you couldn't keep it, huh? C'mere, buddy. Bring it in.”

 

Derek hooked his chin over Stiles' shoulder and let himself be hugged. Stiles ran his fingers through the fur on his now unclothed back, trying to sooth his misery. Derek was whining steadily and Stiles thought he was right to interpret it as weeping. Derek was absolutely devastated by his inability to stay human.

 

“I'm so sorry, Derek,” Stiles soothed, “It will happen. In time you'll get your human form back. Then we'll have, like, a huge party, right? It will be awesome. Like a homecoming party, but with you trying to rock my clothes even though they're way too small.”

 

Derek huffed, his version of a laugh, and Stiles smiled at his success in having broken his melancholy. He leaned back and smiled at the werewolf, helping him out of the last of the clothes once he stood up on all four legs. That was when he noticed what was around him. A travel bag made of reinforced fabric meant to keep it waterproof, a brand new, name brand sleeping bag, and a bag of... clothes?

 

“Derek... what did you... were you human for a _while_? And you didn't come talk to me! I... I wanted to _talk_ to you!”

 

Derek growled in annoyance and Stiles sighed, “Okay, yeah, I get it. You did the responsible thing, but still! I miss talking to someone who can actually talk back.”

 

Derek snorted in frustration and gave Stiles an indignant nip, making him yelp.

 

“Ow! Okay, okay, yeah, not the biggest issue. Wow, this is some great stuff! Socks! Who would have thought as an adult I'd be excited about _socks!”_

 

Then Stiles opened the bag and gaped into it. It was full of money. Stacks and stacks of money and a... _tent heater!!_ Stiles nearly choked on his joy at seeing it, so much so that his fear that Derek had _robbed a fucking bank_ vanished. Who fucking cared?! He had a tent heater!! It was out of it's box, but still wrapped in plastic with the paper instructions tucked in beside it. So he'd taken it out of the box to save room and stuffed it into the bag to get it to Stiles as fast as possible. Derek was a fucking _hero_ and Stiles told him so.   
  


Derek followed Stiles back to camp, but once Stiles situated the stuff in the tent he began tugging at him to leave it before Stiles could unpack the new sleeping bag. Stiles wanted to get the smelly old one out so he could wash it the next day, but Derek wanted to take him somewhere. Immediately.

 

Stiles couldn't see well in the dark and it was a new moon, so he argued with Derek until it was clear the wolf wasn't taking no for an answer. Stiles made a torch and followed along behind him, grumbling irritably as he stumbled through the woods. An hour later and they were on the edge of town, something that had Stiles reconsidering having a panic attack. He didn't go into town unless he _absolutely had to_. It was too risky.

 

“Der,” Stiles whispered, “This is a really bad... what the what?”

 

Stiles stared down at the tarp hidden beneath a thick bush that Derek was pulling back. Stiles knelt down and pulled the _brand new not shredded at the ends_ tarp away and revealed a plethora of new items. The boots, which were too big for him, were back at the camp but here were more camping items, tools, supplies!

 

“Holy shit, Derek!!” Stiles breathed, “This is amazing!”

 

It took two trips to get the stuff back to the camp, but Stiles had slept so much that he barely felt it. They got it all back and stored it inside the tent to keep it from getting wet. Stiles was excited as he went through the things, starting with the sleeping bag. He couldn't wait to get the other one out of the tent. It stank. He set up the solar panel for the heater, but he knew he would have to adjust it tomorrow a few times to get the right angle once the sun was up.

 

“Ok. I just have to know. Where the fuck did all this money come from?!” Stiles stage whispered.

 

Derek rolled his eyes hard and Stiles sighed, “I'm whispering for effect!”

 

Derek snorted in amusement, and Stiles went back to staring at the money, “Did you... and I'm totally not judging... did you rob a bank?”

 

_No!_

 

“Ok. Ok. Sorry. I feel like I have to hide this even though we're the only people out here. It's... fucking hell, it's _so much money_. If my dad and I had had this...”

 

Derek licked his chin in consolation and Stiles rubbed his shoulder gently.

 

“Thanks buddy,” Stiles sighed, “Come on. I've officially worn myself out. I'm totally ready to sleep in a clean bed for a change. Night, sourwolf.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Derek tried to transform daily, but he was fairly certain the new moon was the only reason he'd managed it the first time around. When the day arrived for the delivery of the wood he was worried he'd made a terrible mistake. Stiles had barely managed to make a functional lean-to without him. If Derek couldn't transform how was he to build a _house?_ He was tempted not to bother, but if things changed then the wood might be stolen if they just left it at the delivery point.

 

Derek spent a half an hour trying to explain what he wanted to Stiles using only signs and angry glares. Finally he got Stiles to gather all the rope in the camp and follow him down to the old shell of his former home. There Derek was pleased to see the delivery was right on time. The man stared at them in confusion as Stiles nervously approached, signed his clipboard, and accepted the receipt.

 

“What are we doing with all this lumber and... apparently a trailer?”

  
Derek used his paw to scratch a rough shape of a house into the ground.

 

“Riiight,” Stiles nodded, “You've seen my sorry attempt at a lean-to, right?”

 

Derek growled irritably and nudged the trailer and then the ropes.

 

“Okay, lashing stuff together I can do,” Stiles nodded, “Total boyscout. On it.”

 

An hour later Derek and Stiles were walking down an access road with Derek pulling the trailer behind him while Stiles gave him annoying pep talks. It sounded a lot like shit Finstock would say. Derek had always wanted to bite that fucker.

 

The difficult part came when they needed to leave the access road. They found a place where the trees were wide enough and towed it into the woods. It was much harder to move here and Derek's patience was wearing thin. Further along the pathway they reached a point where it couldn't go any further. Stiles was chattering about how he was going to cover it with a tarp and the urge to bite him was getting more and more intense. Stiles got him out of his harness and Derek took off running, not wanting to do something that he'd regret. He knew a huge part of it was his urge to make packmates, but he still wanted to be able to _speak_ to Stiles before he turned him.

 

An hour or two later he returned to find that Stiles had covered the wood and pinned the tarp down with large stones. Derek glared at the promise of providing for Stiles' future and hated himself just a bit. He tried to focus on the urge to change that had overwhelmed him before. He thought it through in his head in circles. He'd wanted it desperately. He'd _needed_ to changed. He still needed to change. He just had to make it happen.

 

_Change._

 

_CHANGE!_

 

Nothing.

 

Two nights later it was bitterly cold again in one of those characteristic turns in the weather that happened in spring and fall. Stiles' new sleeping bag was so warm he didn't need Derek inside with him, which was a good thing since there wasn't an ounce of space. Derek slept at his feet to make sure his extremities stayed warm, and also to stay close to the human. The tent was far warmer with the tent warmer, even if it hadn't had enough juice to last the whole night. In fact, it was almost too warm. Stiles had to turn it down twice, but didn't do so until he checked with Derek to make sure he was warm enough.

 

“If you ever manage to become human again for more than a few hours we can use the other sleeping bag for you. Or maybe just keep it as a spring/fall bag. Or maybe use it to make the ground more soft. Whichever,” Stiles babbled.

 

Derek's teeth itched. He had no idea that teeth even _could_ itch, but it was making him miserable. He kept chewing at a bone from his oldest deer kill. It was nice and hard now and Derek was wearing it out while glaring at Stiles.

 

“Are you mad at me or something?” Stiles asked, giving Derek a worried look, “I haven't been eye-fucking you, if that has you worried.”

 

_No._

 

“Because your eyes are glowing and you're all miserable,” Stiles told him, yawning broadly as he snuggled down into the sleeping bag Derek had got for him, “I don't want you mad at me. I love you, Derek.”

 

Stiles reached out with one heavy hand and stroked through his fur, sending fire through Derek's body and making his hips jerk up with unbridled desire. Derek didn't register his actions until after the taste of copper filled his mouth. Then the scent of fear and pain brought him back to center at the same time Stiles' scream made his ears flatten down to his head. Derek flattened to the floor of the tent, eyes wide in horror as he realized what he had done. Stiles was clutching his arm to himself, having scooted backwards against the far side of the tent. His eyes were wide with fear and hurt and Derek had put it there. Blood was dripping down his arm towards his elbow, but Stiles wasn't paying attention to it. He was sobbing. Derek had made him _cry._ He'd only seen Stiles cry once, but that had been about something that his past. This was present. Very present.

 

Derek whined miserably, trying to show that he wasn't a threat... anymore.

 

“I... I... I'm sorry!” Stiles sobbed, “I can't help how I feel! I'm not doing anything! I'm not... it doesn't change anything! I'm sorry! Please don't leave! Please don't be mad at me! I'll go _crazy_ without you!”

 

Derek inched closer, whining miserably, horrified by his behavior and trying to get Stiles to understand that it had been a temporary lapse in instinctual behavior. He recalled the book and nudged it, trying to remind Stiles that he'd _asked_ for the bite. It hadn't been delivered the gentlest way possible, but there was no way to stop it from hurting him completely. Derek had lost control, but it hadn't been to be harm or punish him; his instinct to create pack now that weather meant optimal healing time had been overwhelming.

 

Stiles looked from the book to Derek and back, “You... you were just turning me?”

 

_Yes!_

 

Derek sat up as he barked enthusiastically and then slunk forward to lick at his wound. Stiles had uncurled when he'd realized that Derek truly wasn't angry with him. Now he was leaning into the werewolf, running his fingers through his fur as Derek pressed in to apologize for hurting him. Stiles let Derek see the wound and he was relieved to see that his instincts had caused him to avoid an artery. It was a bite to the meat of his forearm, near his elbow, and the bleeding had already started to slow. Derek licked it for a bit, soothing it and staring up at Stiles in the dark. Stiles couldn't see him. Not without the lantern he'd slept with before, but he could feel and hear him. He had felt Derek nudge the book to him. He knew that Derek hadn't meant to be cruel.

 

“I'm glad you turned me,” Stiles whispered, “I was starting to think you didn't want to.”

 

Derek gave a soft _no._

 

“Are you... okay after what I said? I mean. I'm not into bestiality or anything, just... You're my only friend and I think if... if things had been different... we might have been... you know... a good match.”

 

Derek didn't reply. He didn't know how to, not only because it wasn't a yes or no question, but because it was complicated. Derek wanted that, but he also didn't know if Stiles knew what he wanted. Werewolves mated for life and Derek wasn't about to mess around with someone again, even if sex wasn't the same as mating. It was forever or nothing. For Derek, this would mean facing fears he had yet to acknowledge and a past that had left him trapped in his lupine form. Perhaps if he faced that past he would be able to transform completely again and actually be there for Stiles as a proper alpha. If it failed... If it failed he would take his newly formed beta and find another pack. Stiles was a werewolf now, and werewolves needed pack to be happy. If Derek couldn't give him a future he would give him a place where he could have one. Derek would surrender the Hale alpha power to another as a trade for a new pack for them. Stiles would fall out of love with him once given other, more accessible, options. He'd find a mate and be happy. Forever.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was a difficult night full of hot sweats, terrifying nightmares, and an intense fear that he was dying. When Stiles woke up it was nearly night of the next day. Derek had fetched him food in the form of an entire branch off of a berry bush, a rabbit, and a bowl of water. Stiles' mouth was dry as hell, but he had already read the purification tablet's instructions and it made no less than a gallon per tablet. He couldn't just drop one into a bowl. Stiles gave him a hug in thanks and let the berries soothe his raw throat. He crawled out of his tent, stood up, and stretched, expecting the usual muscle aches that accompanied having slept for far too long. For a brief moment they flared up and then... vanished. Stiles blinked and looked around himself for the first time, recalling that the horrid night had been due to having been _bitten by a werewolf_. Derek was watching him, a mixture of excitement and concern on his muzzle.

 

“I'm doing... okay,” Stiles told him, “I feel healthy? I guess I don't technically have to boil the water anymore... er... ew... this is all yucky. No offense, but I think I'll put the kettle on.”

 

Derek huffed in amusement, dancing around Stiles' feet and unintentionally getting in his way. Stiles laughed at his antics but was too hungry to play just yet even though the urge to take off was building in him. He wanted to match pace with Derek, see the things he saw, run, jump, climb, and rub up against Derek to put his scent on him. First, he wanted to _eat_. So he spitted the rabbit and started cooking it while his water heated up as well.

 

Speaking of scent. Did his shit-pit always stink that badly?

 

“Holy shit, that is some unholy shit,” Stiles gagged.

 

Derek chuffed in amusement.

 

“That's going to be worse during summer,” Stiles stared at the area he used to defecate in horror, “I need to fill that in. Fill that in and _never_ speak of it again.”

  
Derek barked twice for yes. The asshole.

 

Suddenly _birds_. Stiles waved his arm above his head, expecting the birds to be right the fuck there, swooping in like some Australian Magpie, but there was nothing. Stiles stared around himself in confusion, but the bird that was breaking his eardrums was all the way up in a tree.

 

“Fuuuuck this,” Stiles whispered, “I am now wondering if all those people talking to themselves on subways were werewolves. It would make sense. I'm ready to rant and rave about stupid nature right the hell now and people in cities are way louder than nature.”

 

Derek huffed in amusement again and Stiles glared at him, “I take it back. I don't love you. I hate you.”

 

Derek spun a circle and jumped at Stiles, daring him to come and play werewolf-style. Stiles' blood felt like it was on fire. He stared at his food and decided it wasn't worth the wait. He pulled it off while it was still medium rare and began to eat it, pulling soft, warm, greasy bits off the bones and moaning around each mouthful. It tasted divine. He wasn't interested in raw, but eating meat that wasn't overcooked for safety sake was fantastic. He drew the line at the water. He wanted fresh, running water and he could hear the creek in the distance. No more lake water if the creek was running again!

 

Stiles was off and running before he'd thought it through and Derek was hot on his heels. Stiles moved so fast he nearly collided with multiple trees and then fell straight into the water. The creek was nearby, but not _that_ close!Stiles laughed, picked himself up, and shook himself off. The water was cold as hell, but it didn't steal his breath away anymore. Stiles found a place where it was running fast and slurped up the cold water coming down from the mountain above. It was so refreshing that he splashed it over his face as well, then washed the mud off from his tumble. Derek joined him in drinking the fresh flow and gave him an open mouthed grin.

 

“This is amazing,” Stiles breathed, “Thank you. Seriously, this is freaking awesome!”

 

Derek barked twice and Stiles laughed and took off running again. They crashed through the woods together, loud and raucous, and then Derek cut off Stiles' progress and gave him a serious glare. Stiles calmed instantly, an urge to please his alpha going through him. His alpha. _His alpha._

 

Derek mimed ducking down and skulking so Stiles got down low and followed him. They went this way for nearly an hour, with Derek teaching Stiles how to sneak up on his prey. It failed miserably. Stiles was incapable of being silent. Derek let him attempt it for a while before getting angry and herding him back towards the camp. Stiles took the hint, gave Derek a quick hug, and hurried off to find something else to do. Derek didn't even return with a kill, so he'd apparently been stalking for fun.

 

Stiles had spent the last few hours in the darkened night just staring up at the sky and listening to the world around him. He was trying to control his hearing, taking a card out of his favorite 90's sitcom The Sentinel and practicing dialing it up and down. The twinkling stars were his company and the moon was calling to him in the most intense way. Stiles wasn't even aware of taking himself in hand, but the lazy orgasm that rolled through him implied he'd been working himself up slowly rather than quickly fucking into his hand until he came only to follow it up with another self-love session in a few hours. This time he was exhausted, fully worn out despite his distraction of listening to the world around him.

 

Stiles had cleaned himself up, but no matter how much he couldn't get the scent of spunk off of himself. He hoped Derek wouldn't care, and as the werewolf loped back into the camp it seemed he was more concerned with sleep. They crawled into the tent together, Stiles leaving the netting up since he'd noted that mosquitoes no longer bothered him, and collapsed onto the bedding. It was cool, but not cool enough for the heavy sleeping bag and Stiles' other one was still drying from it's second wash. He put on a flannel and wore his new socks to bed instead, curling up on top of the fluffy sleeping bag. Derek snuggled into his side and Stiles threw an arm and leg around him, burying his face in his alpha's fur.

 

“You smell so good,” Stiles breathed.

 

Derek made that contented puppy noise that made Stiles' heart soar and they settled in happily for the night.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Derek didn't expect to have _any_ control over his shift during the full moon, but as he dragged a bleeding rabbit around the woods to give Stiles something to do during his first full moon he found that he was entirely wrong. It was the scent of wolfsbane and human that made him dodge the area, but curiosity sent him back sans the rabbit. He had to know about a risk to his beta in the woods that night. Derek carefully pawed at the area and just narrowly avoided a wicked trap snapping shut.

 

Derek stared at it in horror, knowing that with wolfsbane on the teeth and an inability to transform or get adequate help it would have killed him in short order. Stiles would have been alone. His beta would have turned omega on his first full moon and rampaged. He'd have killed or gotten himself killed.

 

Derek found himself on his hands and knees on the ground, standing up on unsteady feet before turning and running for Stiles. He had to get to his beta. He had to get to _Stiles_. Not only because a hunter was nearby, but because Stiles was vulnerable and new and his precious, amazing beta had specified that he had wanted to _talk to Derek_ the last time he'd shifted to human form. Derek knew that no hunter worth their salt would actually go after them on the full moon, so they were safe for tonight. For one night he could spare Stiles the fear of being hunted.

 

Stiles was in the lake, bathing and singing at the top of his voice. He caught Derek's scent- because he was clever as _fuck_ and already learning- and called out to him as he approached. He didn't realize yet what form Derek was in.

 

“Hey, sourwolf! I'm naked! Not that I care, but my pasty white ass might blind you!” Stiles laughed.

 

Derek charged into the water without hesitation and Stiles laughed, standing up and wiping the water out of his eyes as the wake swamped him.

 

“Whoa!” Stiles shook his head like a dog, “Welcome into the water, wolfie! I guess you're not bothered by-”

 

Stiles stopped, frozen, jaw dropped as his eyes met Derek's in his human form for the first time. Derek brushed water off of his face and moved closer. Stiles wanted to talk. He'd said so. He missed conversation. Missed human interaction. Wanted to learn more about who Derek was. Derek could give that to him now, and after the full moon passed and Stiles was more steady they would flee the risk he'd found in the woods, but for now he wasn't going to scare his beta. For now he was going to enjoy the time he had with him, no matter how brief. With conversation.

 

“Kiss you. Kiss you?” Derek choked out.

 

“Well, shit, yeah!” Stiles stammered in shock.

 

Derek cupped Stiles' cheeks and pressed their lips together in a firm, but brief kiss. It was so perfect he repeated it. Then again. Stiles' lips parted in a shuddering breath and he tilted his head and slid his tongue into the beta's mouth. Stiles let out a broken sound and climbed Derek like a tree. His warm legs around Derek's waist in the cool water was a glorious counterpoint, making him wild with lust. The glide of their tongues together was intoxicating. He broke that kiss, leaving Stiles panting and staring at him with glazed eyes. Derek kissed the corner of his mouth and began to move down to the tan column of his long neck.

 

“Let me touch you,” Derek growled as he dragged stubble against his cheek.

  
“Y-y-” Stiles gasped, hips grinding his erection into Derek's belly.

 

Derek's cock twitched against Stiles' plump ass cheeks and this time he spoke while dragging his teeth against his neck to make him shudder, “Let me make love to you.”

 

“Fuck! Yes!” Stiles shuddered in his arms, claws digging into Derek's shoulders as he spilled between them in the water, “Oh _no!”_

 

Derek lifted his head to press his lips to Stiles' temple, “Shh, it's okay.”

 

“It's just I'm a virgin,” Stiles whined, “I can jerk off for, like, an hour. I swear I have stamina.”

  
“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek chuckled, “Nobody wants to fuck for an hour. That sounds painful. You're allowed to come whenever you want.”

 

“So we can negotiate kink later?” Stiles teased.

 

Derek laughed and held Stiles tightly in his arms, “Can I still?”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, voice cracking as he leaned back to meet Derek's eyes, “Yeah, you can do anything to me, Derek. I want you to.”

 

“The moon is going to rise soon,” Derek replied, “I'll be fast.”

 

“Take your time.”

 

“Not until you have an anchor, Stiles,” Derek chided.

 

“I have my anchor,” Stiles promised, bringing their lips together in a long, deep kiss.

 

Derek moaned, unable to deny his or Stiles' urges any longer. He moved to press Stiles against the shore, his kisses frantic as he moved him down heedless of the stones and mud on the shore. Stiles was a werewolf. He could take it. Werewolf love making didn't have to be all tender kisses and delicate caresses. It could be rough. It could be hungry. It could be pinned to the ground with cold water teasing their thighs and rocks poking at their knees and back. Derek gripped Stiles tightly and held him down, mouth exploring beautiful flesh. Stiles was soon panting again, hands tangled in Derek's hair as he sucked on a nipple while teasing the other with punishing fingers. Stiles cried out when Derek gave one a pinch, his cock twitching in his nest of curls. Derek would have him hard again, of that he was certain. In the mean time he would memorize his body.

 

Derek nipped and licked down his body, moving his tongue in swirls as he licked the water away and occasionally gave him a gentle bite to make his back arch and hear him cry out. The moon was rising and Stiles' claws were permanently out, scratching at Derek with surprising gentleness. He was in control. Inexplicably, Stiles was able to keep his wolf down despite so much pain in his past. If Stiles could control his shift than so could Derek. Here he was: human during the full moon despite it being the hardest time to stay in that form. Stiles was the key. Worrying about and wanting him was the key. He'd been reaching for anger for his anchor and it hadn't worked because his anchor had changed _to Stiles._

 

Derek paused at Stiles' hips, nipping the sharp bones there and laughing when Stiles jerked up and slammed into his nose. The beta muttered multiple apologies while still pushing at Derek's head to try to get him where he wanted. Derek laughed again and resisted just to be an ass.

 

“Oh my god I hate you so much!” Stiles whined, and then went stiff beneath him. For a moment Derek thought he'd come again, but then he began to panic, “What the fuck is... Derek! It _fucking hurts!”_

 

Derek lifted his head in confusion and stared down at Stiles' erection, noting a swelling at the base that was an angry red with veins bulging as blood filled his knot. Stiles was popping a knot. _A fucking knot!_ No wonder they were each other's anchors, they were _mates!_

 

“It's okay, it's okay,” Derek soothed, reaching down and gripping it the way he'd been told he should when his father gave him that _humiliating_ sex talk as a teen, “It's totally normal. You're going to come so hard, baby, it's going to feel so good.”

 

Stiles' face had already been shifted to beta, but now a pair of fucking _pointed ears_ appeared above his head. They looked more like fox ears than wolf ears and Derek wanted to bite the white tips, but he had to calm his terrified mate down.

 

“The fuck is going on?!” Stiles shrieked.

 

“It's a knot, Stiles,” Derek stated firmly, “You read about the knot, remember? Focus.”

 

Stiles nodded frantically, taking slower, deep breaths and then focusing on his recollection while Derek soothed him with firm strokes of one hand and rhythmic squeezes with the other. He wished he could climb on top of him and give him _proper_ pleasure for his first knot, but without lube it wasn't possible. Finally Stiles calmed, his yellow eyes moving to meet Derek's even as he began to pant with growing pleasure.

 

“That's... fuck... that's... it's for mates?”

 

“Yeah,” Derek purred, leaning forward and catching his lips in a quick kiss before focusing on continuing to bring him off.

 

“We're _mates?”_ Stiles stammered, “I... oh gods... I can't believe I found true love in the fucking wilderness, what are the _odds_?”

 

“Do you never stop talking?” Derek laughed, feeling pinpricks at the corners of his eyes. He'd found his _mate!_

 

Derek's own knot was growing, the first one supposedly was always the only painful one and Derek truly hoped that was accurate because it _burned_. He felt as if his heart had moved to his dick, pulsing and pounding, hot and unsatisfied. If he weren't so focused on soothing his frightened mate he would be gripping it frantically to take the pressure off. Instead he was sweating and panting in discomfort as Stiles whined beneath him before gasping, back arching beautifully, as his eyes flew open and he let out a ragged cry. Derek watched in awe as his cock pulsed in his hands, the knot swelling to it's thickest width as Stiles' orgasm dragged out for a full minute.

 

Fuck.

 

Derek wanted that.

 

_Now._

 

“My turn,” Derek growled.

 

Stiles was a limp, exhausted mess, lying on the shore with water lapping at his ass while Derek lifted his legs and threw them over one shoulder. He collected Stiles' spunk and slicked up his cock and Stiles' thighs with the copious amount of come his mate had released. It felt heavenly. He slid between his thighs and looked down at where the head emerged on the other side. His foreskin slid beautifully and his knot pulsed with need. It wasn't enough.

 

“Stiles,” Derek gasped, “Fuck. I need you to clench your thighs, baby, I need this too. Please. Stiles!”

 

Stiles' face was slack with shocked pleasure, but at Derek's words he blinked it away, gave him a sultry grin, and tightened his muscles. Stiles' legs were sheer muscle from walking and running as he sought out food. He was _made_ for intercrural sex. Derek let out a punched sound and began to fuck into him hungrily. Like Stiles he was overcome. It had been years since another had touched him sexually and this was his _mate_. Holding off was not possible. Derek was soon still, his knot clenched between Stiles' gorgeous thighs. Before Derek could ask Stiles had reached down and started working his exposed head, teasing it with his fingers and moving his foreskin in mind-numbing motions.

 

“Fuck!” Derek barked out, his eyes bleeding red as pleasure made him push hard against Stiles. He was bending him nearly in half, but Stiles was fit and his werewolf abilities had him even more mobile and powerful. Derek's cock was now pressed against Stiles' belly, his hips jerking feebly as he chased his release, rubbing his cockhead against the place where Stiles had finally grown a bit of plump for next winter. A warm layer _Derek_ had helped put there by hunting for him.

 

“Yeah, that's it my alpha. My mate. My love. Come for me. Come _all over me_. I wanna feel it. Smell like you. Wanna smell like your come, Derek, fuck!”

 

Derek's knot was expanding fully, and it felt equal parts fantastic and awful. He was shaking with the pressure by the time his orgasm finally pushed passed the knot and his seed spilled across Stiles' abdomen and chest. Stiles moaned and gripped his shoulders as he panted through his release at last. He was staring up at Derek with hope and wonder in his eyes.

 

It was worth it. It was so worth the initial pain of popping his first knot to stare down at Stiles and recognize him as his _mate._ Stiles' scent was already changing, merging with his. Derek hadn't even realized that it could do that without penetration, but the act itself seemed to be the catalyst. Besides, the next time it happened their bodies would have adjusted and the pain should be nonexistent.

 

Derek let Stiles unfold from his awkward position and drew the pain away as he helped him to his feet. Stiles healed quickly enough and Derek pulled him into another slow, tender kiss. For a moment they stood together, foreheads touching, as Stiles stared into his eyes in wonder.

 

“You're seriously hot,” Stiles whispered.

 

“Mm,” Derek replied, “I'm going to eat you up.”

 

Stiles laughed lightly, “This is really it? Forever? Mates?”

 

“Now and always,” Derek nuzzled along his neck gently.

 

“You better not turn into a fucking wolf for months on end again.”

 

Derek laughed, but Stiles didn't join in this time.

 

“I have literally never been more serious in my life. Like, at night, for warmth. After sex. Not during. I wanna see that gorgeous face without fur, okay?”

 

“I'll do my best,” Derek chortled, “Like you I've found my anchor.”

 

“That was so sappy. Say it again.”

 

Derek laughed and Stiles buried his face in Derek's neck, soft warmth from his laughter teasing his collar. His mate. His gorgeous mate. Derek had to keep him safe, and now that he knew that Stiles could keep his head during the full moon, maintaining a beta shift rather than losing control, he was going to take this opportunity to protect him.

 

“We have to go.”

 

“Mm,” Stiles nodded, “I've got this burning urge to _run_ and _tear_ into something.”

 

“Another time,” Derek replied, tilting Stiles' chin up, “I found signs of hunters on my way here. They have a rule against hunting us on full moons. We're too likely to go offensive and bite and they'd rather commit suicide than turn. Since you're under control this is our chance to get away without risk of confrontation.”

 

Derek half expected an argument. Some token response of 'but this is our home', but Stiles' face turned stony and he nodded agreement. He didn't question Derek, but from that moment on Derek would question himself because a loud explosion had Stiles shrieking and dropping down onto the ground, hands over his ears. Derek threw himself over Stiles, fear making his heart pound. Smoke. Flames. The smell of burning flesh.

 

“No! NO! NO!” Stiles shouted, gripping the fur on back of Derek's neck and shaking him, “Turn back! I need you right now! Come on!”

 

Stiles dragged Derek to his four feet and started to run. Derek followed after, skirting the water and then diving into it. Derek was following Stiles, his mind screaming at him to protect his mate, but he had no idea where Stiles was going. They stayed under for as long as possible, breaking the surface only when the air burned in their lungs. Stiles gasped for breath and went under again. Derek followed. Finally they surfaced and Stiles made his way toward shore, eyeing the world around him. Derek's brain kicked in finally. Stiles was _new at this_. He needed an experienced wolf to guide him. Derek moved forward and, to his absolute relief, his feet rather than paws touched the ground.

 

“Finally,” Stiles breathed.

 

“Stay close,” Derek whispered, “They took the camp.”

 

“The c- the _camp?”_ Stiles whispered, “Oh, fuck.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Derek whispered, “I'll get you out of this. I'll keep you safe.”

 

“Not if I get you out of this and keep you safe first,” Stiles whispered, and then pointed to the shore, “Unless I've miscalculated our trailer is right over that hill.”

 

“The... the trailer? That's what you've got?” Derek asked, scowling irritably.

 

“It's a safe place to hide, it's under a green tarp in a green forest, and even if they saw it it's so out of place I bet they won't suspect it's ours. It looks like a high school prank, not something a bunch of werewolves out camping would need or want.”

 

“It might also be what _led them to us._ I had that thing delivered to my burnt out house and now they're burning our camp down. Do the math!”

 

“Is the trailer burning?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did they attack immediately after delivery of the trailer, when we were in the wide open, exposed and unsuspecting, with cover for hunters in the dilapidated house nearby, or did it take them a while to find us?”

 

“It... it took weeks, but...”

 

“So they didn't follow it to where we parked it and then to the camp or they would have taken us out then. Instead they waited until the full moon, when they don't normally hunt, because...?”

 

Derek growled softly.

 

“Because they found us recently. So us having an exit strategy isn't in their cards, right?”

 

“Or we could hide here,” Derek pointed out.

 

“Water is the first place a wolf will go to lose a scent. They're gonna search the water.”

 

Derek paused, “Any other place that-”

 

“Not without crashing through the underbrush. Derek, this is close to the road. What are your instincts saying?”

 

“Avoid the road. Avoid territory. The trailer is territory.”

 

“So if we go near the road and onto something that is our territory _after_ their initial attack?”

 

“They won't even look there,” Derek whispered.

 

“Exactly.”

 

They climbed out of the water and slunk onto the shore, belly crawling through the underbrush until they reached the trailer. It was well hidden, several branches having fallen on the tarp and further concealed it. Time had grown over the parts of the descent path from the road that Derek hadn't had Stiles cover up. They crawled beneath the tarp and lay on top of the wood where it was dryer.

 

Derek could hear footsteps throughout the night, whispers in the darkness, and an endless scent of wolfsbane. He held Stiles' hand in he darkness and told himself to keep his legs because Stiles would be more comforted by his mate than a furry companion. When dawn crested the forest was silent of unnatural noises. The hunters had last sounded disappointed and angry. He had only heard two this time. Derek hoped that it wasn't a trick.

 

“Stay here,” Derek whispered.

 

“What are you doing?!” Stiles hissed.

 

“Checking the camp.”

 

“No! Why?! That's what they want you to do!”

 

“It's okay. I won't be seen.”

 

Derek slid out of the tarp and moved towards the camp in complete silence. He barely stirred a leaf. When he reached it he slid into his fur seamlessly, knowing he could return when needed now. The camp was ash. Only two things had survived. Derek's book of werewolf lore and a picture of Stiles as a small child with his father and mother had been stabbed through Stiles' face, both pinned to a tree by a solid silver crossbow bolt.

 

Derek looked around, sniffed the air cautiously, and then quickly pulled the bolt free to rescue the book and picture. He found their wash line a few seconds later. He fled the clearing, dodged around for a mile to throw off anyone's tracks, circled back to the lake to fetch Stiles' clothes from the night before, and then returned to Stiles as silently as possible to find his mate curled up beneath the tarp.

 

“Did you get food? Water?” Stiles whispered.

 

“No,” Derek replied, “But we can get that along the way. They destroyed everything, but I managed to get these back. They threw your clothes in the mud. Juvenile. I'm sorry the picture is torn. At least you still have a picture of your mom and dad.”

 

Derek handed him the picture and and clothes and then sat on the edge of the trailer to look down at the book. His mother's book. Passed down for generations. Derek started to turn the pages slowly, surveying the damage within.

 

“Derek?” Stiles spoke softly, “Why is there a hole in these? Was it shot or pinned to something?”

 

“Pinned. How the hell did you figure out that?”

 

Stiles sighed, “And you took it down.”

 

“Your parents,” Derek gestured, “My family's book.”

 

It had been in a safe. It was the only thing that had survived the fire besides a few pieces of jewelry that the firemen stole and some metal trinkets and silverware.

 

“Derek,” Stiles sighed, turning the book to the last page, “I understand how you feel, I do, but it was a _trick.”_

 

Stiles pulled a thin microchip off the book and studied it. Derek stared at him in shock and wonder, trying to figure out if he was seriously that smart or had watched too much television.

 

“I wonder if it's triggered if broken, moved, or if they were just planning to come back and activate it once they saw the book and picture were removed.”

 

“I thought they were just proving that they knew who we were,” Derek spoke softly.

 

“Pfft. So? I'm the missing Ex-Sheriff's kid,” Stiles replied sarcastically, “You're an assumed dead werewolf who they thought they had gotten years ago but now realize they have to re-kill. Whoop. Freaking. Whoop. Search the rest of that book for another transmitter and let's put them somewhere that _isn't_ here.”

 

Derek obeyed, finding _three more_ and they scattered them throughout the woods as quickly as possible before meeting back at the trailer.

 

“OK. Now what?” Stiles turned to Derek, “We run, but where to? Oh, and that was rhetorical. I'm making our plans from now on. You are a failwolf. An epic failwolf. All my love, my mate, but still. Failwolf.”

 

Derek growled, “I'm the alpha now.”

 

“You know how beta's make you stronger?”

 

Derek narrowed his eyes, but Stiles continued undeterred.

 

“There's a reason, okay?” Stiles gestured between them, “I'm the brains, you're the brawn, but you're the brawn with a past with werewolves. So. Information from you gets plans from me. Where are there more werewolves? Where are there less hunters? Make with the information.”

 

Derek paused, eyes searching the world around him. He sniffed the air and tried to find the scent of humans, but the Hunters had always been good and figuring out ways to disguise their scents. He had no idea where their enemy was and therefore no way to know where to go.

 

“There are... there are packs to the south. Some to the north that we didn't know well. Some to the... to the east...”

 

“Aaaand mermaids to the west?”

 

Derek glared and Stiles gave him a frustrated smile.

 

“Mind if I make a suggestion?” Stiles spoke up, breaking Derek's depressing spiral, “Let's get the trailer and take the main road. It's the last thing they'd expect and they probably haven't figured out the trailer is ours, because why would werewolves living rough have a trailer full of wood, right?”

 

Derek nodded slowly, “Okay. What do we want the trailer for?”

 

“So you can make me a caravan,” Stiles replied, “Tools are all here. And while I appreciate your attempt to recover things from the camp, I have stuff stashed all over these woods. Including some of that money. Sheriff's kid. Paranoid to the core.”

 

“A caravan,” Derek deadpanned.

 

“Yeah. That's why you got it, right? To build a little house on wheels for me. For us. For our little pack of two. Which we can then use to keep warm, safe, dry, and go find more packmates seeing as how I can never live a normal life near here. Right?”

 

“No, Stiles, I wasn't planning on making you a _caravan_ ,” Derek replied with snark.

 

“Well, we can pull it,” Stiles replied, linking their fingers, “Together. And it looks pretty worthless on the road until it's a house, and after that it will be safe. So we just have to get that wood and the trailer far enough away from hunters tonight that we can stop using it as a bed and make ourselves a home. We find a few more wayward waifs along the way and make a full pack. You'll have a pack again. And maybe, someday, when you're ready, you can tell me what happened to the first one and why those people are after us.”

 

Derek closed his eyes for a moment, fighting down the urge to shift into a wolf and run like the wounded animal he was. Stiles needed him. He had to stay present. Derek stepped forward to breathe in Stiles' scent, deep and long, before leaning back and nodding in agreement.

 

“It's a good plan. Let's do it.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

It took half of the day to get the damn trailer back to the main road and then they hid it for the remainder since there was no way in hell they were going to drag it by day. It would attract attention. They hid beneath the tarp like animals for the day and Stiles muttered miserably that he'd gone from too cold to too hot. It was stifling beneath the tarp in another hot spring day. Derek threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth after an hour.

 

Finally they slept, too exhausted to do anything other than rest. When night fell they got out, killed the first bit of food they could manage, and Derek ate the rabbit raw while Stiles stared at him in horror.

 

Derek scolded, “Eat. You're a werewolf. You'll survive. You might even like it.”

 

Stiles instead located his stashes of emergency supplies, finding three bags that hadn't been destroyed by weather or animals. The bag of money had been divided into two other locations and neither had been disturbed. They now had a few basic supplies and money to buy more. Derek squeezed into some ugly clothes that smelled of mildew and decided he'd raid someone's laundry line at the first opportunity. They piled the rest onto the trailer while Stiles ate some nuts that had been hidden in one of the bags. Derek shook his head at him and gave him judgmental eyebrows, but Stiles hadn't reached the point of eating raw meat yet.

 

They both took a side of the hitch, lifted, and began to pull. Well. Derek did. Stiles lifted, yelped, and dropped his side. The whole thing would have tipped over if Derek hadn't grabbed his side and pulled it back down again. As it was a pile of wood and the supplies crashed to the ground. Derek's nostril's flared and his eyes flashed at Stiles, lips pressed together angrily as Stiles winced and gave him an awkward whimper in response.

 

“You brawn, me brain?” Stiles tried.

 

“I'm not pulling this thing for miles! Not alone! You want to keep it, we both pull!”

 

“Okay! Okay!”

 

Derek put up a hand, silencing him. Or trying to.

 

“I'm just not very coordinated, okay? You saw me trying to help you get it out here. I do better holding branches out of the way than-”

 

“Shut _up._ I'm trying to listen.”

 

Stiles fell silent, smelling of fear as Derek listened to the woods and the road in anticipation of their assailants returning. He could hear them, but they were far away back beyond their destroyed camp.

 

“They're returning to the camp. We need to go. Now.”

 

Stiles and Derek loaded the trailer back up quickly and Stiles grabbed a pair of stashed winter gloves and put them on to steady his grip. This time when they lifted Derek moved slower so Stiles could figure out his range of motion. Stiles was talking himself through it all so Derek kept quiet and listened to us cues. He moved when Stiles was ready to and they hurried forward this time in fairly smooth tandem. Derek focused on both the path and his mate this time. Finally they reached the road and began to pull it along by hand towards the highway. It was miles and miles, but they were able to duck underneath whenever a car passed, or they heard people nearby, or when Stiles' muttered babble became distressed. Eventually he found his gate and they were able to speed up to something faster than a trot.

 

Per Stiles' plan they made it through the main town and onto the highway that night, pulling it as fast as possible long past the point their muscles burned. Finally it was sunrise. Derek quickly caught a groudhog and this time Stiles didn't even gag at the sight of him digging into the raw meat. He joined right in, ripping it up with his sharpened teeth and accepting the liver as his mate's gift to him. They washed up with the last of their water and Derek went to seek more as the stronger of the two. They had pulled the trailer off the main road onto a parking area and hung a shirt on it to show it wasn't abandoned. When Derek returned from fetching water from a park water fountain Stiles accepted it with a relieved sigh and downed an entire canteen. The other they saved for morning. The two climbed beneath the tarp between two piles of wood to hide their occupancy and fell instantly asleep.

 


	13. Chapter 13

For three hours they simply pulled their little wagon along main roads, using the direct route to speed up their travel while throwing off any hunters who would be expecting them to use an _actual_ vehicle on the main roads- which would put them further ahead of their actual point- or go through the woods- which would leave a more obvious trail. Once they reached another small town they found an abandoned train station and pulled the trailer inside. After a brief break Derek scouted the area to make sure no one was nearby and then started working on the shelter for them. Derek had a basic structure in mind based on some of Stiles' babbles and sketches in the dirt during downtimes. He wanted a story and a half tall building with a loft up top for their bed and room below to build a tiny bathroom, kitchenette, and sitting area.

 

What they had to work with was a 6' by 12' utility trailer with two wheels on either side, in the middle, no ramp, and a grate around the sides. Derek had decided the loft would be the full length of the trailer accessible by ladder through a trap door instead of open to the floor below. Derek knew a few basics of construction, but this wasn't something he had ever done before. Stiles knew a bit more because he'd snuck into the library to do research but had no practical application. Stiles decided he would go get more research done while they stayed in the area, but Derek didn't plan to stay long. He planned to go into town come dawn, buy a truck to pull the trailer, and move _faster_. Stiles had apparently had a license at one point. He could drive by night while Derek slept and built by day.

 

Derek mapped out his plans on the floor and began making the frame. He had two walls done fairly fast, but had to rebuild one of them when he realized he'd built it poorly. He went into town after that, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple. The poor thing was so exhausted he'd fallen asleep even through all the noise. Derek found a used car dealership and told them the pull he needed. They had two trucks with that strength, but neither were in the greatest condition. Derek took the one that had the least mileage and better engine, paid in cash, and hoped that they didn't spend the entire remains of his families' fortune trying to get away. He still wanted to be able to provide for Stiles.

 

Derek bought more tie-downs, bungee cords, some plywood, and some different sized screws, nuts, and bolts now that he knew what he was building. He returned and continued working on his project. Despite being tired he felt like he had a second wind due to sheer excitement about his project. Derek once again had to re-start the floor, but his second try panned out perfectly and he soon had the floor in, and two walls built in, props and tie-downs keeping it up while he built the third and forth. Sadly, his project delayed their departure so they stayed another night in the depot.

 

Derek put a window in each wall to keep the place feeling open and a double doorway at the back of the trailer where he removed the back rack. He wished for a porch but had no idea how to make one. Perhaps someday. For the time being they would simply jump up to the door.

 

“Wow,” Stiles breathed, staring at the start of their building when he woke up the second day.

 

“It's... A start,” Derek replied.

 

“Twelve feet to the roof?”

 

“I got the longer beams since I didn't know what we were building,” Derek nodded, “Good thing.”

 

“That explains the huge trailer,” Stiles groaned as he stretched, “And why you didn't have anything cut.”

 

“Figured it's easier to cut than to go buy longer wood if we needed it.”

 

“Do we have enough wood?”

 

“No, not at the moment,” Derek replied, “When I bought it I'd pictured a sort of platform and ceiling and us using the materials in the woods around us to complete the walls. A cabin of sorts.”

 

“Well, we can still harvest stuff along the way, it just might not be as easy... or be from a lumber yard.”

 

Derek snorted.

 

“So. Grand tour?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek gestured to the biggest opening, “Door.”

 

Stiles climbed up and looked around himself, “Cool. Like the width.”

 

“Window to your right, back, and front. I'm thinking a skylight up above. Right corner for the kitchen. Left for the bathroom.”

 

“That explains the window placement further forward.”

 

“I was thinking a small window in the bathroom so it doesn't feel like we're trapped in there, but at the moment I don't know how to build a bathroom so I figure we can alter it when we have a clearer idea of what we're doing.”

 

“A vent might just be better anyway,” Stiles nodded, “Something small.”

 

Derek shrugged, “I was going to have us drive a while today. You ready to go?”

 

“Yeah, I'm good.”

 

“You need to drive _carefully,”_ Derek told him, “Neither of us have valid licenses.”

 

“I've got this, Derek,” Stiles grinned, “My dad was the Sheriff. I know how to drive to avoid cop detection.”

 

Derek's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Stiles' heart didn't falter. He and Stiles hooked the trailer up to the truck, loaded the supplies they'd picked up into the back, fastened everything down, and started driving. Derek turned into a dog and curled up on the bench seat, exhausted beyond belief. Stiles stroked his fur gently and took them out on the freeway. The house behind them was another form of cover. It didn't look like wolves fleeing for their lives. It just looked like construction workers moving a project. Derek had commented more than once that that they should have just dumped the wood and trailer and bought a camper if they wanted a mobile home, but Stiles had pointed out that it would stick out like a sore thumb since camping was what they had been caught doing. They had to get out of hunter territory first and foremost. If they wanted to ditch the project after that they could.

 

Except, Derek didn't want to ditch it anymore. Derek wanted to build a home for his mate. The project was helping him combat his fear and Derek was proud of his work, even if he was questioning half of what he did. Stiles chattered as he drove, explaining how he had to go through areas that weren't patrolled and it meant a lot of wandering aimlessly and avoiding main roads. Derek fell asleep on the bench while thinking of the next steps he needed to take.

 

They stopped for the day in a pull off for a utility road. Derek instantly saw the wisdom, as it was a construction site further up the road. They weren't on the road they were using, but they could easily be mistaken for part of the build, so their little project on wheels wouldn't draw attention. Stiles wanted 'real food' so he took the truck alone into town to get his first fast food meal in years. Derek framed the roof while Stiles stretched out in the truck to sleep. At one point he wandered up the hill to talk to the workers, asking for advice on his own project. Derek had more issues and he was running out of wood, but the project was still giving him the peace he needed to stay focused. He didn't want to wake up Stiles to take the truck into town to get more wood so he spent some time drawing out his ideas instead. If he'd known he'd be building on a trailer he'd have gotten a different _kind._ The metal bottom was perfect, but there was no ramp on this one and that would have been a huge asset.

 

Partway through the day Derek decided he was getting nothing done, took some money, and went into town. He visited a diner, not only to get a proper meal that was _not_ fast food, but to get information. While Derek sipped on a milkshake and stared down at a plate of pancakes in awe he kept his ears and nose open. They had to either find a pack or find a place without a pack to start one. Stiles needed to be away from his history, and for that it might be best to move not only away from Beacon Hills, but out of California as well. They were a few miles from the border per the map Derek had picked up. Soon they would be in Oregon. Stiles and Derek had proven that they were hardy werewolves, capable of living in the wilderness quite easily. If they could carve out a space for themselves as a pack they could find freedom together.

 

“Oh no, Isaac. Again?” A soft voice spoke up.

 

Derek's eyes rose to see a young woman, another customer, turning to face a boy who had entered. He was covered in bruises and looked as if the slightest noise would terrify him. Derek tuned in instantly as the boy joined her after giving the room around them a worried look.

 

“The whole point of leaving Beacon after your dad died was to get away from your past,” The girl whispered, a shaky hand touching the freshest bruise on his cheek, “Why do you let them do this to you?”

 

“I'm a whore, Erica,” Isaac hissed at her, “It's not like I enjoy it. It pays our bills. It's not like you can work and Boyd's only bringing in so much money this time of year.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Erica whispered, “If I could whore I would, but I can't. Nobody wants a prostitute who has seizures all the time and pisses and shits herself during them.”

 

“I know, I'm sorry,” Isaac sighed heavily, “I'm just exhausted. My asshole hurts.”

 

“Are you okay?” She asked, real concern in her voice.

 

“It's not... I don't need a doctor.”

 

“Okay. Okay,” Erica spoke softly, sounding devastated.

 

Derek watched as the chef stored up the bits of meals that were discarded by others and put them in front of the two who had caught Derek's eye. They ate hungrily, and then the girl professed to be too tired. She was worried she'd seize soon and wanted to go home. Isaac offered to walk her home and Derek paid his bill before heading out the door. He followed them at a distance, figured out where they lived, and headed to the nearest supply store. He picked up the heavy duty brackets that the construction workers had recommended, glad that he'd not lost the whole rig before due to using the wrong bolts and brackets. Stiles seemed as invested as Derek, so he was going to go all out.

 

The good news was that there was a bank here that he could use to access his family's old accounts. He was a bit hesitant to do so, preferring to use the bonds, but since he couldn't get to them and they'd run out of funds eventually, Derek decided to head to the bank and see if he could get into the accounts. He should have quite a few in his own name, so even if he couldn't get ahold of his family's estate he should be able to get to the college fund his mother had set up. Derek went into the bank and started talking to the manager, who was shocked that Derek was alive. He stalled Derek for a few hours and then confessed that it was going to take time to track down his funds. The accounts were long since deactivated as Derek had been presumed dead and no one had claimed them. Derek agreed to return in a few days when they had time to research them, but couldn't leave a number as he and Stiles had no cell phones.

 

Derek headed back towards the home of the two young adults from the diner and found the young man outside smoking. Derek grimaced at the scent but steeled himself to approach him.

 

“Hi. I hear you're looking for work.”

 

The young man had looked despondent when Derek approached, but once he spoke a playful smile spread across his face.

 

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, voice thick and sultry as blue eyes gleamed up at him.

 

“Hard labor,” Derek stated.

 

He snickered, “Whatever you wanna call it.”

 

“I walked here, but we can get a taxi back if you call it.”

 

“Uh... you mean an _uber_?” He laughed lightly, standing up and canting his hip to one side.

 

“Yeah. Sure. I'll pay.”

 

_What the fuck is an uber?_

 

A standard car arrived ten minutes of awkward silence later and Derek climbed in with the nervous human. They pulled up to the construction site and Derek directed the _uber_ around the other side to where their little trailer was. Stiles was out and moving around, making himself a little meal out of some of the food he'd picked up the night before at an all night grocer. They were still going without a cooler because the store had been sold out, so it was cereal with powdered milk for breakfast. It looked and smelled horrid. Derek slid out of the car and helped Isaac exit. He was starting to look uncomfortable so Derek pointed to the frame of the house that Stiles was sitting on while eating.

 

“Get to work.”

 

“You... you bought me for him? He's 18, right? I don't do minors.”

 

Derek sighed heavily, “I said heavy labor. That wasn't a euphemism. Grab a measuring tape and start reading me numbers. You can read a measuring tape?”

 

“Uh... yeah.”

 

“Good. 30 dollars an hour okay?”

 

“Yeah!” His eyes lit up now and Derek watched him hustle to the tool box.

 

They spent some time measuring while Stiles talked the young man's ear off about the build, about Derek, and anything that popped into his head. Through Stiles' chatter he learned quite a bit about Isaac, including that Stiles and he had vaguely been aware of each other in school. Isaac had gradated a year behind after his dad had been murdered and his grades had dropped during foster care. Stiles had been on the run at that point. Before that they'd had one class together and Isaac had been the quiet sort.

 

Eventually Stiles collapsed for another nap, this time curled up on a blanket under a bush, and Derek went into town with Isaac to pick up a few necessities. They returned with plenty of plywood and Isaac helped Derek fix the problem with his structure and then lay the floor. Derek practically celebrated once he could stand on the trailer's proper floor.

 

“So are you two gypsies?” Isaac asked Derek.

 

“That's a racial slur,” Derek muttered back.

 

“Sorry. Um... carnival... folk?”

 

Derek huffed, “We're travelers.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I want to finish this before we continue,” Derek told him, “Where could I go in town?”

 

“There's a warehouse on the pier. Kids go there to smoke pot. I pick up clients there sometimes. The police don't patrol it and no one would hear you.”

 

“Show me?”

 

“Sure.”

 

They drove over, Isaac riding in the back so Stiles could curl up in the front seat. His mate was exhausted. Derek paid Isaac and told him to come back the next day.

 

They continued their work in the damp warehouse, Stiles now helping since they weren't driving through the night anymore. He was an absolute menace with any tools so it became his job to hold things up, pass tools, check measurements, inspect things afterwards, basically stay busy so Derek wasn't tortured by the little shit. When they finished Derek drove Isaac home and went to the store for clothes for himself and Stiles since Stiles was still nervous about going into town during the day, but he did have Derek drop him off at the library so he could do research on Tiny House Builds. He figured libraries were so low-key he'd be undetected there. They went to the beach to wash up in the ocean, laughing and playing together. His little beta was adorable and the new clothes were tight and sexy.

 

That night Stiles produced something from his own shopping trip two nights ago. A bottle of lubricant. A smile spread across Derek's face and he pulled his beta in for a deep, hungry kiss. The cab of a truck wasn't the most comfortable place to make love, but it was a dozen times better than a lake shore. Stiles knelt before him, gasping and moaning as Derek worked him open. His beautiful bottom was on full display for Derek. _This_ was home. The 'tiny house' they were building was just a way to keep Stiles' gorgeous body safe, warm, dry, and happy. What Derek really needed was the young man whose ass he had three fingers buried inside of.

 

“Yeah?” Derek asked.

 

“Fucking now!” Stiles replied eagerly.

 

Derek huffed and gave his bottom a scolding slap, but wasn't about to delay further. He knelt up, leaning over Stiles' body and framing him with his arms. With the fear in the background he could enjoy him in full, and Derek had every intention of ravaging him.

 

Stiles groaned, a mixture of pleasure and pain, as Derek slid into his body inch by inch. Stiles body was a vice around his cock, stealing his breath away and making him long to just pound in. Stiles' body would heal if he did, but Derek would never treat his precious mate in such a way. Instead he held himself in check until he could finally seat himself fully in Stiles' body. His lover's erection had flagged, but Derek was nothing if not attentive in bed. He wrapped a slick hand around his limp member and began to work him to full hardness again. He only moved minutely until he was sure Stiles could take it. Then he slowly began to increase his range of motion. By the time he was fucking into Stiles as fast and hard as he wanted, balls slapping against his taint, Stiles was begging him for more, harder, faster, _now!_ His mate was insatiable. Derek almost wished for the knot that would appear next full moon. For now he would make sure he satisfied him before he finished.

 

Stiles spilled onto the blanket on the seat twice before Derek let himself find his first release. By that point Stiles was limp beneath him, face squished into the seat, ass up, letting Derek take him until even a werewolf's refractory period was drained. Derek leaned back to watch his seed drip from Stiles' well used whole and smirked proudly. His mate would lack for _nothing_.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Derek was a sex god. Seriously. Stiles was selfish for not sharing him with everyone in the world. He should be the sex worker, not Isaac. Derek's perfect, thick, long cock made Stiles weep with lust. The initial burn of entry had been unpleasant, and if Stiles hadn't had that healing mojo he would have asked to stop, but once Derek had been buried balls deep he had taken to pleasuring Stiles like the Eros he was.

 

Rivers of pleasure had swum through his veins like molten lava, turning him into a wanton animal. He growled, moaned, writhed in pleasure, and cried out for his alpha with a frantic voice. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Derek began to fuck him in earnest. His body slammed into Stiles, his cock teasing his prostate with every other thrust. He knew that Derek wasn't overly experienced, but what he did know was enough to drive Stiles wild. Possibly he was responding to Stiles' noises. Surely he moved his hand and adjusted his grip at the perfect times. When Stiles finally came it was with his back arched as he screamed in bliss, grateful for the safety of their location. Derek howled out his own pleasure a mere few seconds after Stiles tumbled into a _second_ release.

 

The beta went limp, exhausted and sated beneath his gorgeous mate. Derek, to his shock, wasn't through. He gripped Stiles' hips, held him in position, and took his satisfaction in long, hard thrusts that tortured Stiles' prostate. He didn't complain. He wouldn't, even though he could and Derek would surely listen, because he wanted nothing more than to please his mate. Derek finished with a low groan, leaned back, and let out a soft exclamation of joy. Stiles could feel come leaking out and thought it was disgusting, but Derek was apparently fascinated and watched for a while before leaning down to lick up the mess he'd made.

 

“Ew! Dude! That's my naughty place, you weirdo!” Stiles laughed, pushing at his face.

 

Derek growled and slapped his hip sharply.

 

“Werewolves are so weird! You won't eat powdered milk in cereal but you'll eat my ass?!”

 

“There are some strong tastes and scents we like,” Derek broke away, “And others that are unnatural and should never exist. Like powdered fucking _milk_.”

 

“It lasts, and I haven't had _real_ milk in years.”

 

“I'm finding a cooler tomorrow if it's the last thing I do,” Derek stated, “Anything is better than you drinking that filth.”

 

Stiles slept stretched on top of Derek that night, his head pillowed on the alpha's chest. It was a wonderful night's sleep for Stiles, but Derek woke up cranky and sore so the chances were it wouldn't be repeated. Pity.

 

Derek picked up Isaac from his apartment again, and this time he came by with a young woman who he explained wasn't feeling well. He didn't want to leave her alone. Stiles immediately went pack mom and sat with her while Derek and Isaac worked on their home. She didn't seem to be listening the entire time he talked, but he kept at it while she shakily stared around her. She smelled vaguely of piss and infected wound and Stiles was worried about her health. Derek kept glancing over at her as well.

 

“You talk a lot,” Erica muttered softly.

 

“Yeah, sometimes,” Stiles laughed, “So what do you do? Are you a... um...”

 

“Pro like Isaac? No. I'm too sick to work. Isaac and Boyd take care of me,” She replied, sounding absolutely miserable.

 

“That's rough,” Stiles frowned, “It's cool of them to take care of you, though. Are you, like, a throuple or something?”

 

Erica gave him a startled glance, “People usually ask me what I have, not if I'm sleeping with two guys.”

 

“I was going for a fun question,” Stiles replied, “Derek and I are totally married, by the way.”

 

“You're... married? To him? Tall, dark, and broody?”

 

“You forgot hot like fire. Yeah, we've been married about four days now,” Stiles gave him a goofy smile and Derek glanced over to return his gaze with a soft smile of his own.

 

“Oh, wow,” Erica spoke softly, “His whole face changes when he looks at you.”

 

“Unless I'm annoying him,” Stiles laughed. Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to his work.

 

“He's got really good hearing,” She observed.

 

“And really great muscles. Awesome sense of smell. A weirdly specific ability to talk with his eyebrows. Shut up, Derek, I'm just talking to our guest,” Stiles told Derek's irritated eyebrow scolding.

 

“So you're werewolves,” She spoke evenly.

 

Derek dropped his hammer. Stiles grinned broadly at her cleverness. Isaac gave Derek a confused look, not aware of the conversation he and Erica had been having. Boyd chose this moment to arrive on his moped, but Stiles had to handle this new bit of info before he could grill her on her potential for being happily throupled. He gave Erica a soft smile and headed to Derek to report in so he could start earning that heavy pay. He smelled like fried food still, and Stiles was sure he hadn't even been home to give himself a break between jobs. 

 

“Oh, so you know about us?” Stiles asked.

 

“Why do you think we left Beacon Hills?” She asked, “All that death. Being afraid all the time. And we were the misfits, so there was basically no safety for us. We couldn't go places in large numbers because most of the school- and when we graduated our peer groups- were out to get us. So we were basically afraid for our lives constantly.”

 

“Not shocking considering the Hales were gone,” Stiles told her, “Derek's mom's pack protected the area for centuries until the fire wiped most of them out. Once they were gone all these feral omegas and that one dangerous alpha came through. It got ugly. I had to hide out in the woods. Used to put up mountain ash lines around my camp, but I must have smudged it one day because this gorgeous specimen walked into my life.”

 

“And bit you.”

 

“To save me, yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I was in danger of dying out there so I asked him to turn me. Life's hard when you're living on your own in the middle of the wilderness. Or in the city.”

 

“What are you going to do to us?” She asked, her eyes tracking Isaac and Boyd in obvious hope to get their attention and warn them of the threat. Isaac was talking quietly to Derek about the project, completely unaware of Erica's worry. Boyd was watching them quietly, but was too far away to hear them. He was obviously aware of her in ways that told Stiles he wasn't far off base with Boyd. 

 

“Nothing,” Stiles shrugged, “But the bite could probably cure your seizures, if you want it. I could ask Derek for you.”

 

“My... I didn't tell you I have seizures,” She stated, going stiff beside him.

 

“I figured it out,” Stiles shrugged, “I remember your symptoms from school. They never told us what was wrong with you, but I heard you had some sort of fit once. I figure it was probably a seizure.”

 

“It's pretty... wild, us running into you here. You running into us. When we knew each other at school,” She stated softly.

 

Stiles turned to face her more, “It's actually not. We're running from werewolf hunters who aren't following the code. Derek hasn't hurt anyone and neither have I. We're just trying to live our best lives out here. This is the main road out of Beacon Hills, most traveled and therefore safest. We're here for the same reasons you are. Running from danger. This is the first quiet place to stop, pretty similar to Beacon Hills in a lot of ways. So we stopped and ended up staying longer than we intended, just like you did I'm guessing. We didn't come looking for you if that's what you're thinking.”

 

“Sure,” She replied, unconvinced.

 

“Of course, that means we're still vulnerable since we're in the most obvious town, but by staying here instead of in the woods I guess we're okay-ish. Anyway, back to the bite, it's just an option. I know Derek is looking for packmates, but we're not about to force anyone. If you're happy living the way you are than we aren't going to interfere.”

 

“Meaning you know we aren't,” She replied softly.

 

“I've only been a werewolf for, like, a month,” Stiles laughed, “I can't smell your chemical signals and figure out your mood or anything. So you tell me. You happy? I mean, lots of people like sex work and I sure as hell like not having a job, but that doesn't mean you two are happy. Anyway. What's Boyd do?”

 

“He's a waiter at a diner,” Erica mumbled, rubbing her arms tiredly.

 

“You cold?” Stiles asked.

 

“I'm fine. You remember Danny?”

 

“Yeah, we dated for a hot second.”

 

Derek's head snapped around, glaring at Stiles until he blushed and muttered an apology.

 

Erica laughed at his outrage and shook her head in amusement, “He married Jackson.”

 

“Shut the front door!” Stiles yelped, “That asshole used to mock us for being gay!!”

 

“I guess that's why they stayed friends,” Erica smirked, “He knew Jackson's lil secret.”

 

“What about Scott's mom. How... how is she?” Stiles asked softly.

 

Erica glanced at him in confusion, “Wouldn't know.”

 

“Oh,” Stiles sighed.

 

“You're looking for pack, why not look there?”

 

Stiles shook his head, “She couldn't stand to be near me after Scott died. Reminded her too much of him. Of how he was gone. She... she blamed me. Rightfully so, I guess. I was the one who led him out there...”

 

“It was a werewolf, right?”

 

“Yeah. A feral alpha. He'd been hurt or something from what I found out through my research. Packless alphas aren't healthy as it is. Add in injury that won't heal- because of wolfsbane or whatever- and they can go psycho. So it turned Scott to make him pack, but when Scott didn't go willingly to obey him it killed him.”

 

“And those Argent girls.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “I had my suspicions about that. I mean, their blood was there but only one body and werewolves, even feral ones, don't eat humans. The Argents are a hunter family. I'd been looking into them when the police started suspecting me of all the murders and shit. Apparently they weren't all about following the code. I'm wondering if they're the ones who are after us. Revenge for Kate's death, which we didn't even have a part in. Just... bigots.”

 

Erica was silent for a long time, but Stiles wasn't the silent type. Eventually he got sick of the long quiet and gave her a wide grin.

 

“So... you didn't answer me about your possible throuple?”

 

She laughed weakly and shook her head, “Nobody wants to sleep with someone like me. I'm... I'm _gross_ , Stiles. I've got bedsores and I can't keep myself clean without help. On the rare occasion like today when I'm up to moving around for a bit I get tired easily and then I have a fucking seizure. We can't afford my meds, so I'm only taking part of the dose I need.”

 

“I'm sorry,” He said softly, “If it helps I didn't lose my virginity until I got werewolf married.”

 

Erica snorted.

 

“Actually I lost it _while_ getting werewolf married.”

 

Erica tried to fight back a grin.

 

“Know what's a thing? Knots. Knots are a thing.”

 

Erica burst out laughing, shaking her head in amusement, and both Boyd and Isaac paused to look at her with a mixture of shock and sorrow filled longing. Stiles saw their expressions and smiled sadly at them both. It was obvious that Boyd was into her, but he looked at her as if he were afraid a gust of wind would fracture her into a million pieces. Perhaps it would.

 

“That big top floor?” Stiles confided in her, “It's going to be one giant bed. One huge, soft, fluffy bed. All of us werewolves, we crave contact like you wouldn't believe. Not sexual, no, just _contact._ I'm picturing a small but cozy pack. Six. Eight max. All just curled up together.”

 

“In a twelve by six space,” Erica deadpanned.

 

“Hey, that's more than a foot a person! That's perfect!”

 

“How short is this imaginary pack?” Erica laughed, “Because the walls are taking up a few inches, so that six feet is actually more like five and a half.”

 

“Okay, well maybe we'll build another tiny house so there's more than one nest,” Stiles laughed, “Then, like, rotate who sleeps where so everyone gets cuddle time with me.”

 

“You the cuddle star?” Erica bumped his shoulder with hers.

 

“Hell yeah, I am. Who wouldn't wanna snuggle with me?”

 

“Stiles,” Derek's interrupted, voice amused, “Quit being a wereslut and come give us some input.”

 

Stiles put his hand over his heart in an insulted gesture and gaped at him, “I am not a _slut!_ Slut is a social construct. I'm a werewhore.”

 

“Get your whoring ass over here,” Derek chuckled.

 

Isaac gave Stiles and Derek a broken look which Stiles noticed on his way over. He paused to hook an arm around his shoulders.

 

“Hey. Sorry. I'm an asshole,” Stiles apologized.

 

“Yeah, you are,” Isaac grinned weakly.

 

“What you need Der Bear?” Stiles asked.

 

“Don't call me that,” Derek huffed, “I'm looking at the shape of our second floor and am wondering where you want the window and what kind to get. My original plan was the skylight, but I really didn't know what the fuck I was doing at that point. The easiest roofing solution doesn't support it. So we're changing it to wall windows, which can be opened even in rain. I was thinking two crank windows across from each other and two regular windows on the high wall. I was at the hardware store yesterday and they do have some that would fit our area, but we'll have to re-frame- just them, not the whole structure. Or I can just suck it up and not bother with windows at all seeing as how I fucked it up. Except I want air to breath up there.”

 

“We will 100% die up there without windows.”

 

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “It means we're here for longer.”

 

Stiles sighed, “We'll deal. Besides, if we get the roof on than if we have to run fast we have a shelter already in place. So I say focus on the cladding and the roof. Get that done. Windows last. We can always tarp it over.”

 

Derek leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple and Boyd gave them a broken look before turning back to his work.

 

“Okay. So we fill cover the roof with galvalume,” Boyd stated, “It's fast and easy to waterproof. Also available at the store.”

 

“Right,” Derek nodded, “That will be the same we use to frame out the area where the stove is going. What about siding?”

 

“Plastic or wood?” Boyd asked, “I don't know how to do wood. This was just a six month job I did, you know. Plus your boyfriend's research.”

 

“I'd prefer wood,” Derek admitted, “But plastic would be fastest.”

 

“It would,” Boyd quipped softly.

 

Stiles snickered and Derek gave them both a glare.

 

“We could always do wooden paneling inside,” Stiles suggested, “We're going to have to insulate it eventually, and that could go over easily. That way we're more than a plywood box.”

 

Derek agreed and they headed to the truck, but Isaac and Boyd balked at leaving Erica alone with Stiles. Stiles insisted they'd be fine, but Erica told them she was tired anyway. She wanted to go home.

 

“There's a neighbor who I stay with when the boys are away,” Erica told him when he gave her a concerned look, “She knows how to give me my seizure meds. She's a stay at home mom, so I just stay out of her way on the couch.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles pulled her in for a hug, “Think about it.”

 

“Yeah. I will.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

The bank finally came through, and they were intensely grateful that Derek didn't pitch a fit at the delay or the temporary loss of his funds. He had access to two hundred thousand dollars. It would get them started at least, but if he couldn't get to the bonds under the vault than he'd have to get a job. A job meant no more running, and at the moment that wasn't possible.

 

Two days of steady work and their build was looking like a home. Derek had hit a few snags, but they were all easily fixed. He'd had to re-frame the downstairs windows as well, but after working it out smoothly he soon had eight windows ready to be installed. The roof was a silver tin color, all sealed and secure. He'd cut a hole for the furnace once it came in, but it had to be special ordered to get the kind Stiles insisted on using. Derek hoped they were still there once it came in in three weeks, but he supposed they could always leave and return. Per Stiles' insistence they were using a false name just in case the Argents were looking for them. The clerk had given him quite the look when he'd told them the pick up name was Underhill.

 

A camp store yielded a composting toilet, [a propane instant hot water heater with a connection for a shower head and water tank](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077YWNWXV/ref=sspa_dk_detail_0?psc=1&pd_rd_i=B077YWNWXV&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_p=a54d13fc-b8a1-4ce8-b285-d77489a09cf6&pf_rd_r=8EW5NYY7A7JQG89WFJMQ&pd_rd_wg=7ZCXY&pf_rd_s=desktop-dp-sims&pf_rd_t=40701&pd_rd_w=nPLnZ&pf_rd_i=desktop-dp-sims&pd_rd_r=c6d2be2c-a565-11e8-8a11-3342f9a62d4f), a few [water storage containers](https://www.amazon.com/Collapsible-Camping-Outdoor-Container-Cablefinder/dp/B00E66SWZ4/ref=sr_1_20?s=hi&ie=UTF8&qid=1534872054&sr=1-20&keywords=camp+water+container) with switch tabs that would serve as sinks when hung from the walls in crates. The counter below had holes cut to fit a removable bucket with handles so they could wash things in it, or catch used water to dump later. Boyd was rigging their set up for the latter while Derek figured out how to safely set up their propane shower. It ended up being a bigger pain in the ass than he'd expected, but eventually he managed it using a line of pipes and stashing the propane tank up above on a shelf. The shower was shorter than he'd wanted, but it also served as a tiny tub to wash laundry in. The drain out the floor was a simple hole in the a [big steel watering pan](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B000OWFAHM/ref=sspa_dk_detail_1?th=1) from a farm store, with a short pipe since it was just gray water and Derek had biodegradable soap. Opposite the shower was the composting toilet. They'd use the sink outside the bathroom to wash up. The walls of the bathroom were a problem, because Derek had zero experience with tile and neither did Boyd. He was game to try, but it wasn't a priority so their shower had painting plastic all around the walls to avoid damage to the plywood walls while Stiles made a decision. The floor they poured epoxy on to seal. Derek had worried that the floor would look awful, but it darkened with the epoxy and created a warm look. The bathroom's door was a simple curtain with an ocean scene because Stiles was a dork. Stiles had actually managed to build a rain barrel holder for the side of the house outside of the bathroom to feed through to the shower inside. It directed water off their sloped roof, into a gutter and down to the barrel. They didn't get a lot of rain in California, but if they traveled elsewhere it would be useful. In the mean time Derek had filled it up via a hose from a person's house in the middle of the night, and it would be no trouble to buy gallons of water on the road. Stiles' first shower had been accompanied by moans of bliss, followed by a loud shout of outrage when he used it all up. Derek had laughed at his antics and reminded him they only had 45 gallons to utilize. He couldn't stay in there for an _hour_.

 

Insulation was next, and Derek went the simple route with the kind he could pack in by hand. Another layer of plywood and they were able to nail on simple wooden paneling. The windows went in last, and Derek was left with only two predicaments: the bedding and the furnace.

 

The [furnace](https://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/B002G55XXQ/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&condition=new&coliid=IY6IBPOAI0YRC&colid=QIXIL5D7VXIA&linkCode=sl2&tag=kar06d-20&linkId=017abfc0d2123af706a385ea8469d382) would serve both as a stove to cook and to heat their home. Their kitchen, when Boyd finished it, was a set of shelves for dishes, pans, and food stuff across from the bathroom. The top shelf held the sink and the bottom had a cut out for their cooler so it could slide in and out on it's wheels. Next to the shelves, on the furthest wall from the door, they built up a sturdy table, affixed to the wall behind it, with galvanized steel paneling across it and up the walls all the way to the roof of the second floor. This would be where the furnace went. It was their prep and cook area, right next to the sink and across from the bathroom. The furnace pipe would heat the second story as well before venting out the roof.

 

In the main open area they built a long box spanning the space between the bathroom wall to the entrance with hinged lids. Erica picked out pillows to put on and behind them to make a long bench seat that could double as a narrow spare bed. It was Stiles' idea to build a table on wires that would descend from the ceiling. It took some engineering, but eventually they had a table that dropped down to hang at level with the long bench that could be lifted and secured to the ceiling via four blocks of wood that would twist into place. The ceiling was already low at eight feet and the table at the top made it feel even smaller, so Stiles painted the bottom of the table with a white cloud to give it some depth. The ceiling and edges of the cloud he painted a shade of light blue. The floor got a green scrap piece of carpet that was thick and soft. Something you could sit on.

 

Opposite the bench was the area where they were going to have more seating, but that idea died when Stiles researched Tiny Houses. He was practically hysterical about having steep steps that doubled as storage. Derek thought he was ridiculous because a second bench would have been storage _and_ seating _and_ another bed, but Isaac and Boyd worked it out and Derek was begrudgingly grateful that they had a few closets out of the larger steps. They traded the small hole for the ladder for a larger hinged trap door to enter the space above. The smaller step ended in a short bench which would seat the opposite side of the table. As Stiles pointed out, having a ladder was less homey than a stairway, even one that had twelve inch steps. Stiles put the pressure rods that Isaac had picked up for them inside the three biggest closets. Stiles hung his and Derek's clothes in one and left the rest free. Erica had bought them little cloth cubes to put in their cubbies, which they would keep from moving with ropes nailed to each side. Stiles said it looked rustic and charming. Their shoes went into one of the smaller cubbies. Derek's precious book went into another, and Boyd kindly added a few books for Stiles to read since he knew he was obsessed. He'd gotten them from the library with his meager funds from the diner. Stiles had shed a tear when he was gifted them.

 

Stiles celebrated having fresh milk and burger meat and happily cooked them burgers over a camp stove outside. Their furnace hadn't come in yet, but the last of the build had taken them close to the delivery date. Stiles was pulling more input from Boyd, Erica, and Isaac as he chose bedding material from the samples Derek had brought from the store. The option to stuff mattresses in there existed, but they would be bulky and have gaps. Stiles took Erica's advice- Derek suspected he'd already made his decision and let her think it was hers- to use memory foam. They would buy memory foam toppers from a store. They weren't as thick as mattresses, but with a thick carpet beneath they would be tolerable as bedding, and more stable than a mattress since they had no bounce. They could be cut to shape, making it possible to buy an extra and cut out the area for the trap door. The trap door they put carpeting over. With the windows in place it felt surprisingly open and Stiles and Derek spent some time rolling around to scent the place to Boyd and Isaac's amusement.

 

Erica and Boyd hadn't been there most days, but whenever they were Stiles involved them heavily; Erica through discourse and Boyd through work. Derek suspected it was his way of bringing them into the pack, but considering their wariness around werewolves he suspected they wouldn't be interested in joining them once the hourly pay vanished.

 

Isaac was strongly considering joining, but was clearly fearful of change and leaving his hand-picked family. His life with his friends was hell, but it was the hell he knew. Isaac had a record because he'd started whoring in order to escape his abusive father. After he'd gotten arrested in Beacon Hills he'd moved with Erica and Boyd out of the town to start over. His record kept him from getting a proper job, forcing him to continue to prostitute himself. A big part of the problem was that he was asexual. He didn't enjoy sex when it _wasn't_ a way to survive. He just wanted a regular job, but he had no options. If he went with them Derek had promised him pack protection. Isaac could be a hunter/gatherer, his financial security based on his ability to provide for the pack. Since they planned to live off grid it would be a position that they needed. Derek would have promised him the job of Den Maker if it weren't for the fact that Stiles was clearly solidly in that role already.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Riding Derek's dick was surprisingly difficult in their new bedroom. The ceiling might be three and a half feet on one side, but when one was bouncing on a cock that was a poor amount of space. They ended up turning so they could have a bit more room above Derek's head and Stiles leaned forward to fuck back onto his length. It was most satisfying and Stiles came untouched across Derek's body while he basked in lazy pleasure. When Stiles collapsed onto him Derek fucked into him fast and hard until he spilled and the rested in relief.

 

It was time. Ten days since the full moon and their escape. The furnace had arrived the day before. Derek was going to go get it, install it, and seal the roof around the chimney. When that was done they would be complete with the exception of the bathroom walls and a front door. The front door was an issue because Derek had wanted it to be a big sliding door to let in more light and fresh air when opened but the store hadn't had a light enough model for their small walls. Derek was looking at other options, including making something himself. As decent as he'd been with the work he wasn't an expert carpenter. There were imperfections and re-do's all over their home. Stiles didn't fault him for that, but he was having doubts about their special front door. In the mean time they had mosquito netting tacked on and two pieces of plywood on hinges secured with a rather flimsy latch. It was a temporary solution so they could get moving without completing those last two spots.

 

'When they moved' was the issue. They had set the leaving point for the delivery and installment of the furnace and now Stiles was counting down the seconds before they hooked up the trailer and drove away. He had a day, maybe less, to convince his packmates that they _were in fact packmates_ and that they should go with them. So Stiles did what Stiles did best. He planned and made sure things went his way.

 

Isaac showed up for the furnace install. It was a two person job and Boyd had a shift at the diner that day. Stiles walked up as Isaac and Derek were discussing the project.

 

“I've already bought the chimney, caulking, and roof sealant. It's just a matter of lining it all up, testing it, making sure it's safe,” Derek stated, “We should be able to install in a few hours once we pick up all the parts”

 

“So...” Isaac frowned thoughtfully before sassing, “A day or so, then?”

 

Derek glared at Stiles when he walked up and glanced pointedly at his watch-less arm, “Will Boyd get done his shift in time?”

 

“Time for what?” Derek asked with a frown.

 

“For us to leave, duh,” Stiles huffed.

 

“Oh...” Isaac's eyes slid to one side sadly, “I guess he... he will want to say goodbye.”

 

“There's no goodbye between packmates,” Stiles grinned, clapping Isaac on the shoulder, “Even human ones. You may not be able to sense us like we do you, but we're still, like, part of the circle of life or some sentimental shit like that.”

 

Derek sighed as if much put upon while Isaac gave Stiles a confused look.

 

“Hey, you know that tradition of signing your initials in the book shelves at Beacon Hills Library?” Stiles asked, turning his manly shoulder grab of bro-ship into a pull towards the build, “You three _are_ gonna sign our cubbies, right?”

 

“Sign... the cubbies?”

 

“Yeah. Well, the closets is more like it. One on each. You helped build them, you should sign them.”

 

“There's four.”

 

“Yeah, one for each of you. Derek and I are sharing the bigger one.”

 

“Erica didn't help.”

 

“Sure she did!” Stiles insisted, “Her input was instrumental in me getting my way with the color scheme. I'm so glad she's taking the bite, but I hope you know you don't have to.”

 

“I know,” Isaac nodded, heart bouncing over the lie, “Sure. Wait...”

 

“Good, because nothing is wrong with you, Isaac,” Stiles insisted, squeezing his shoulder gently, and talking over his question, “Asexuality isn't an illness. Erica needs the bite to be healthy, but you don't need it. If you want it that's another thing, but you don't ever have to take it to be in our pack. You're already pack. Comprende?”

 

“You mean the pillows with forest scenery,” Isaac scoffed, dodging Stiles' question this time.

 

“And the boulder beanbag chair. Don't forget the boulder beanbag chair.”

 

“How could _anyone_ forget that,” Derek asked miserably.

 

Stiles decided he'd planted enough seeds to let Isaac be for the time being, “So, when are they coming over? We need to know when we're pulling out of here.”

 

“Yeah,” Isaac replied, more sure this time, “They'll both be here tonight. I'll remind them.”

 

Derek gave Stiles a suspicious look before heading to the store with Isaac in tow. He returned with the materials for the furnace and chimney. He also came back with more sample material for their bathroom. It was proving to be the most frustrating room in the house as they had realized they needed to control the weight on their trailer. Every ounce counted, so fancy tile was out. This time he brought in backsplash options. They seemed to be easier to install and Stiles was feeling optimistic. He took himself into the bathroom and started holding things up and reading up on installation. After a few hours he checked on Derek and Isaac. They were eating sandwiches and grumbling. Isaac had cut his finger pretty deeply on the roof and Derek was trying to convince him to go to the hospital.

 

“You could get sick,” Derek insisted, “And I'm fairly certain you need stitches.”

 

“If I go there they're going to give me shit about whoring again,” Isaac whined, “It's not like I don't use protection. I'll wrap it in duct tape or something.”

 

“That and all the injuries you've gotten from clients,” Derek replied, staring at him cautiously.

 

“Well, yeah,” Isaac stared down at his bandaged hand.

 

The blood was seeping through the bandage. Stiles could tell it needed stitches after a quick glance beneath, “Isaac, Derek will pay for everything. You should get one final test, too.”

 

“Um...” Isaac gave Stiles a wide-eyed look.

 

“You know, to make sure you don't have any STI's that need treating. One final goodbye to your life as a prostitute, and _hello_ to freedom! Besides, when we leave we'll be going odd places and it sounds like this place already has records for you. We could pick up copies of those records as well so that we have them if you get hurt or sick elsewhere.”

 

“Wait...” Isaac stared at him in confusion, “I'm... going... where?”

 

“To the hospital,” Stiles stated firmly, “Look, it's not a death sentence. Just stitches. Man up, flimsy human boy. Derek. Furnace. Now.”

 

“It takes two people to-” Derek protested.

 

“To do the chimney. Looks like it's on to me. Now go finish the rest.”

 

Derek grumbled as he walked away, but obeyed Stiles' anyway.

 

“I thought he was the alpha?” Isaac snickered as they went to the truck.

 

“He is, but I'm his mate and he knows I mean business. Otherwise he doesn't get the booty. Speaking of which,” Stiles climbed into the cab and started the truck, “I want to make sure you know we'll respect your sexuality.”

 

“Yeah, you mentioned that already, but I don't understand why it-”

 

Stiles interrupted, “I was thinking we could put you on the downstairs sofa so you don't have to be around two horny couples. Don't want you waking up to three dudes with morning wood and their mates nearby. Once Erica is turned she's going to be all clingy and that's probably going to make Boyd a bit... ya know... So we don't want you to have to be around that.”

 

“Wait, she and Boyd aren't a thing?”

 

“Oh, please!” Stiles laughed, glad he'd latched onto the distraction from the main topic again, “It's just a matter of her health. Once she's turned she'll be this vibrant she-wolf and he'll be able to approach her without fear she'll break. I'm kinda super excited to see those two go from UST to happily ever after. Aren't you?”

 

Isaac was silent, staring at his wounded hand and looking both sad and hopeful. Stiles knew how much Erica and Boyd meant to him. They were his family after his own betrayed and abused him. The idea of Erica healthy and both of them happy was clearly getting to him. They headed into the hospital and sure enough Isaac was given more than one disgusted look throughout. Stiles stayed with him, sassing anyone who gave him flack. The nurse who stitched his finger shut heavily implied that he had HIV, but when Stiles worriedly asked if that was true Isaac said he didn't think he did.

 

“My last test was negative, but it's been a bit. None of my clients have it... that I know of... and I use condoms.”

 

“Well, let's get you tested,” Stiles replied, “We want you healthy. They can call you with the results. Isaac, if it comes to it we'll pay for the medicine, okay?”

 

“Oh... uh... okay,” Isaac looked more than a bit frightened so Stiles turned it up a bit.

 

“I know the meds have some nasty side effects, but part of being in a pack is taking care of each other. You're going to be _okay_.”

 

“What kind of side effects?” Isaac worried.

 

“Weight loss, weakness, feeling sick, that sort of thing. Good thing your bed is near the bathroom! We better get it done fast.”

 

Isaac nodded, face pale, but part of it might have been the bitch nurse stitching him up with two sets of gloves on as if he were a leper. Stiles held his other hand and smiled fondly at him. As the nurse was leaving he called after her.

 

“By the way, the only reason prostitution is illegal is because corporations can't benefit from it and religious institutions have decided it's a sin in order to monopolize on guilt and make money off of people's regret. His body belongs to him, he shouldn't be policed any more than a pregnant woman wanting an abortion.”

 

The woman glared at him before leaving and Isaac snickered, giving Stiles a grateful look. Stiles rubbed his arm comfortably and they left once the discharge paperwork came through. Isaac had refused the STI test that the nurse had tried to push on him. Stiles was surprised he turned it down, but didn't push him. It was his body. On the way back to the site build Stiles insisted that they visit Erica. They went to the three friend's apartment and Stiles immediately got rid of Isaac by giving him money to get a pizza. He eagerly took it down the street to his favorite pizza place while Stiles lured Erica away from her neighbor friend. They sat down on the sofa together and Stiles grabbed her hand and smiled at her in concern.

 

“Listen, I'm not saying that I'm bothered Isaac is coming with us. If anything I'm relieved. This whoring thing? Seriously not good for him. Not anything against prostitution, but he's _asexual._ Maybe someone else would be cool with it like Boyd or you or whoever, but Isaac is _hurting_ , so yeah. It's good he's joining our pack and coming with us. It's you and Boyd I'm worried about.”

 

“Isaac is doing what now?” Erica narrowed her eyes at Stiles.

 

“Just level with me,” Stiles gestured with his hand, “Will you and Boyd be able to support yourselves without Isaac's income? I know he's worried. He's probably been avoiding the hell out of this discussion, but I won't feel right leaving without having it. Will you two be okay?”

 

“I mean...” Erica frowned, “I can't really work...”

  
“Well, once you take the bite you'll be able to if you want to,” Stiles corrected, “But you've also never worked and getting started will be difficult. Not to mention you'll be dealing with new instincts while _away_ from your alpha. I wish you two were coming with me, but I know Boyd doesn't want to leave and I respect that. Do you want me to help you with your resume? I've never done one, but I'm good with words. You _know_ I can make you look good.”

 

Stiles ended with a wink while she blinked at his misdirection. Her eyes narrowed again. Erica wasn't the sort to be easily swayed and Stiles realized in that moment she wasn't going to just let him talk over her the way Isaac had. Which was why it was a struck of cruel, irony when she began to seize before she could tell him off for being a manipulative bastard.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Derek hated the cell phone. He'd never needed one in the past and he didn't like having one now. However, the little disposable phone did it's job and it meant that Stiles would be able to reach him as needed. Such as if Erica had a grand mal seizure while Stiles was alone with her. He'd handled it, of course. Stiles was nothing if not efficient and intelligent. He'd stabilized her head, shouted for help, and let the neighbor handle administering her medication. Then he'd held her while crying on the phone to Derek.

 

“They won't let me call 911,” Stiles whispered to Derek, “It's against her standing wishes, apparently. She can't afford the ambulance fee. Or the stay there. This is _normal for her_. Derek this is fucking awful. She's not even moving now. Please. Please, _do something_.”

 

“Stiles, this is how they've handled it in the past,” Derek argued, rubbing at his chest where he was having some weird, phantom pain.

 

“But she's _pack_.”

 

“I know,” Derek let out a slow breath, “And I know you're trying to make this work, but-”

 

“This isn't about that!” Stiles lied.

 

“Stiles, I can hear your heartbeat through the phone, and for the record you're a terrible person.”

 

There was a beat of silence and then Stiles replied, in a much calmer voice, more sarcastic voice, “I know, it keeps me up at night.”

 

Also a lie. Stiles slept like a fucking baby. An octopus baby. Their new bed was too big with just the two of them, and Derek was feeling it, too.

 

“I'll be right there.”

 

Derek stepped into the flat to find Isaac staring at a steaming hot pizza as if it had just broken his heart. Derek paused, knowing Erica was with Stiles, and reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze. He stood in silence with him for a moment, but he was completely still and silent for so long that Derek made to move on. Isaac's hand reached out and gripped Derek's wrist tightly.

 

“When are you going to give her the bite?” Isaac asked.

 

Derek struggled for a moment. He knew Stiles was trying to manipulate things and didn't want to let drop that Erica hadn't actually asked for it. His silence had Isaac assuming the problem was on _his_ end and he turned to face him more, gripping his wrist with both hands and staring up at him with desperation in his eyes.

 

“Please. She's so fragile sometimes that... but she's strong inside. She'll make a great wolf! She really will! Nothing can stop Erica from being this brilliant force of nature but her seizures, and you have the power to _stop those!_ Please!”

 

“I need you to understand this,” Derek met his eyes firmly, “The bite is a gift, but it's also one that can be rejected. If I were to turn her against her will her body might fight it off. It could kill her. Fear is an unconscious part of that. I won't do this unless she's ready for it.”

 

Isaac's eyes danced with moisture for a moment and then he blinked it back and suddenly he was calm. Derek's eyebrows went up at the sudden change in his disposition and even scent. He pulled his hands from Derek's wrists and shifted to sit up straighter.

 

“Do me.”

 

Derek's eyebrow quirked and Isaac elaborated.

 

“Turn me. Erica won't be afraid if you turn me first.”

 

Derek tilted his head in consideration and then held out his hand for Isaac's once more. Isaac gave it, slowly getting to his feet and letting out a slow breath. His nerves weren't returning. He was absolutely calm, the picture of the professional sex worker who was used to putting himself in someone elses hands. He wasn't afraid because he was smothering it to deal with once the facade came down. At this moment he was handling Derek like a client and with that came layers upon layers of abusive history going all the way back to his father. He'd envisioned himself turning people for years, making himself a pack that would support and empower him. He'd always planned for the bite to be vicious and terrifying, showing his new beta or omega the _power_ behind being a werewolf while establishing himself as alpha. He wanted them to know that they were about to become _predators._

  
He couldn't do that with Isaac. Derek didn't want to be the one to add another horrific memory to this strong but brittle young man. Instead he followed Isaac's lead and raised his hand to his lips like a courtier. He pressed a kiss to the back of Isaac's hand, watching his breath catch and then slowly release as Derek took him to the familiar. Derek's lips parted against his flesh and he turned Isaac's hand to expose the meat of his palm and bit down with human teeth. Their eyes were locked and a moment of fear flickered across his big blue orbs before fading into calm. Derek chose that moment to beta shift and his teeth pierced the flesh just as Isaac drew in a shocked breath.

 

It was over. Isaac pulled his hand away, clutching it close and staring at Derek's human face with mild shock as opposed to the fear and hurt Derek might have instilled. Isaac looked at his hand. It was bleeding mildly, but Derek's quick snick of teeth wouldn't require stitches like his sliced finger from the chimney install. His hand would heal completely in a matter of hours.

 

“Do you need help bandaging that?” Derek asked.

 

“It's not healing,” Isaac stared.

 

“Give it time to take. Your body is going to learn what to do with the bite soon.”

 

“Okay. I'm... I'm gonna just...” Isaac gestured to the bathroom and left Derek standing there awkwardly.

 

Derek chose to give him some space. He went into the shared bedroom were three mattresses lay on the floor in various states of unmade. The smell of each person lay heavily on them, and from Erica's the scent of dry urine was the strongest. She was naturally a clean woman, and from the house build he had seen an element of fashion come out in her. It was her ailment that prevented her from expressing herself fully. She spent so much time trying- and failing- to keep herself clean between seizures that she didn't get to play at being the gorgeous woman Derek knew was beneath her tattered exterior.

 

Erica was in her bed with Stiles sitting on the edge of it watching her in concern. He looked as if he couldn't tear his eyes away from her even for a second for fear she'd start up again. Derek's heart ached. He realized that not all of this was manipulation. Stiles cared for her. He wanted her to be safe and well, and his antics were all about making that happen.

 

“I turned Isaac.”

 

“Okay. I mean there are two people currently in the apartment, so I can see how that was a bit confusing for you.”

 

“Shut up,” Derek huffed.

 

“She really scared me,” Stiles admitted.

 

“I know,” Derek crouched down to study her sleeping face, “It has to be her decision.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You can't control everything.”

 

Stiles turned at last, eyes meeting Derek's and flashing yellow, “Fucking watch me.”

 

Derek's lips curled into a smile, “There's my beautiful fox.”

 

Stiles scoffed, looking away from him and back to Erica and stated forcefully, “She's going to be okay.”

 

Derek pressed a kiss to his cheek and left him to it. There was nothing more he could do for them. Instead he walked out to check on Isaac and found that he was calmer than Derek had expected.

 

“I don't feel different,” he told him.

 

“You won't for a bit,” Derek told him, “Relax. Take care of Erica.”

 

“The furnace?” Isaac asked.

 

“Done. All put in and tested.”

 

“And...” Isaac paused, “Stiles said the downstairs would be sort of... my bedroom.”

 

“If you want, yeah,” Derek nodded.

  
“I think I want... to stay closer to you,” Isaac replied softly, “But not for sex.”

 

Derek gave a heavy sigh in Stiles' direction, “I've got plenty of sex, thanks.”

 

“Oi!” Stiles shouted out of the bedroom, “You like the sex! It's great sex!”

  
Derek smiled fondly but didn't reply, leaving Stiles to fume and mutter to himself in the next room. It was still fun to aggravate and tease his mate, something that hadn't changed from when he was a wolf. After all, he still slept comfortably in his wolf form with Stiles wrapped around his furry companion. When Isaac joined them he would be pressed to a living stuffed animal, not a hard bodied man. There wouldn't be an issue with sexual tension between them.

 

“Let me know when she wakes up,” Derek stated, reaching out to run his hand through Isaac's curls to scent mark him. Isaac allowed it and Derek counted it as a win.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Boyd came home late, smelling strongly of grease and exhaustion. He walked in, took in the look on Isaac's face, and hurried into the bedroom where Erica had just woken up and was staring around herself miserably.

 

“She says she's nauseous,” Stiles told him as he came in.

 

“Did you give her her crackers?” Boyd asked.

 

“You're out,” Stiles stated, “I'm out of money to buy more and so are you, but we have some more at the build.”

 

“No,” Erica whimpered.

 

“Erica, you need to take care of yourself,” Boyd spoke softly, “You can't lose more weight. You know that.”

 

“I don't want to... want to _do_ this anymore,” She sobbed, breaking down as Boyd knelt over her, “Please don't be mad?”

 

Boyd's eyes were wet with tears as he reached out to stroke her hair, “You're upset. You know how you get after a bad one.”

 

“I shit myself in front of Stiles,” Erica sobbed, “Isaac had to help him change me. And we can't afford diapers this week.”

 

“Erica, you can't... please don't give up, okay? We'll figure this out. I'll get a second job. I'll-”

  
“I want the bite, not to kill myself you idiot,” Erica snapped weakly, “Isaac's already taken it. He hasn't gone wolfy and murdered us all, so I guess it's okay.”

 

Stiles practically held his breath as he studied her silently. Boyd was the only one that Stiles hadn't had a chance to work on, and he was also the most difficult. He didn't share much. He was the strong silent type, even more than Derek was. At least Derek gave shit away with his eyebrows. Boyd was unreadable. His scent was the only thing that told how he felt, and frankly Stiles was still trying to learn how to read chemosignals.

 

“Okay,” Boyd stated.

 

Erica relaxed into the bed, “You're sure?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I don't... you'll still be my f-friend?”

 

“Always,” Boyd stated, still stroking her hair.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Derek looked up as Stiles returned in the truck with the back filled with things. He sighed heavily. They had a tiny house. TINY. It wasn't going to fit all that shit. Erica was carried out by Boyd who walked towards him with purpose in his eyes. Derek felt his fangs descending instantly. The urge to launch at them and bite until he tasted copper hit him so hard it made him growl softly. He knew why they were here despite the fact they hadn't called to tell him. Derek moved with preturnatural speed and it was over before Stiles could speak. They didn't flinch, and that alone burned pride through Derek. Erica even scoffed at him. Stiles was the one who yelped when Derek launched himself at the two.

 

“Jesus, Derek! Do you have to be so bite happy?!” Stiles choked out, “Dude! It was only supposed to be Erica!”

 

“No,” Derek stated firmly, “It wasn't.”

 

Stiles turned to give Boyd a baffled look, but he just stared him down, “I don't want to be alone.”

 

“Wow. Okay. I did not see that coming. Cool. Welcome to the pack, puppies. Let's get you three settled in.”

 

Erica rested on their couch while Isaac and Boyd unpacked their things. They had decisions to make. They'd packed in a hurry, taking only the essentials, but even that needed to be pared down. Things they couldn't part with got stored under the couch, most of it personal but not functional. They did bring a few electrical items, but the house hadn't been run for wire yet. Derek wanted to heave them, but Stiles insisted that some might be worth keeping. Namely the TV, DVD/Blue Ray Player, and the pile of DVD's. He practically wept when he saw all the new Marvel movies he'd missed out on. Derek was itching to leave after such a long time in one area so he flat out refused to do more work on the house at this point in time. His territory was now mobile. He wanted to protect it by getting it further from the Argents, and much further from any areas where Stiles' past would bring him trouble.

 

Finally they narrowed down their clothes to what would fit in a foot of space in each closet with shoes at the bottom. Socks, underwear, and bras were put in the smaller storage chest at the base of the stairs. More books filled their bookshelf and new pots and pans were hung on hooks in the kitchen. Stiles' insistence that they didn't need to buy them now made a great deal of sense. He'd been expecting the new pack to join them and bring theirs. Erica had insisted on bringing every curtain and rod in the house, absolutely disgusted with the boys for not even thinking of putting curtains on their windows.

 

It took a few hours to settle everything and then Erica felt well enough to stand. She wanted a shower. She looked like a whole new woman when she emerged. She sat on the bench in a towel without an ounce of shame and slowly brushed her hair while staring around herself with eyes that were a mixture of wild and calm. She was clearly at peace with her decision and seeing her move around and start making herself food in a t-shirt and briefs seemed to jump start the group's comfort levels. Suddenly they were talking, joking, flexing muscles and wondering when they'd reach Derek's level of bulk. Erica wondered when Stiles would reach hers and Derek's level of gorgeous and Stiles gave her the insulted gasp that deserved.

 

Finally Derek stood up and gave the room a careful look. His betas were all gathered around the lowered table eating the food that the three newbies had brought over. Stiles was moaning over chips and dip as if it were cock and Derek wanted to revisit that later. His mate was still getting used to having access to people food again. He had gone on a fast food and pie binge for a week, and was currently into sandwiches with bizarre toppings. Derek missed venison.

 

“We're going to get going now,” Derek interrupted, “Clean up and secure everything. Erica up front with me while I drive. The rest of you buckle up down here.”

 

“I should drive,” Boyd offered, “I've actually got a license.”

 

Derek considered it and then nodded his permission, but cautioned Boyd to pull over if his newfound senses began to bother him while driving. He walked to the front with Boyd to show him the maps and their plans for driving. Stiles, Isaac, and Derek put the table up so it wasn't swinging around and sat down on the long bench to buckle up, talking amongst each other. Stiles had a book to read but ended up talking to them the entire time while holding hands with Derek. Occasionally the two up front managed to use their new hearing to join in but often there was silence from up front as what they were saying went unheard.

 

After a few hours Isaac fell asleep with his head on Stiles' shoulder and Stiles practically melted, pointing to him excitedly while keeping his hand around the beta's shoulder. Derek smiled and pressed a kiss to Stiles' nose.

 

“You're a good den maker, Stiles.”

 

“The fuck's a den maker?” Stiles asked with a frown, an edge to his voice that sent off warning signals that Derek foolishly ignored.

 

“The person who takes care of the den. The people in it. The... sort of... household peacemaker. They make sure everyone gets along and is fed and healthy.”

 

“I'm not the girl,” Stiles sputtered giving him a furious glare.

 

“It's not a _girl's_ _position_ ,” Derek stopped that line of thought in it's tracks.

 

“Good, because I'm not the girl!” Stiles hissed.

 

“There is no girl, Stiles. We're both guys,” Derek scowled angrily.

 

“Just because I like to take it up the ass doesn't mean I'm, like, weak!” Stiles sputtered, smelling of anxiety and anger.

 

“I know that. Why are you being weird about this?”

 

“It's just that you're this alpha wolf and I've sort of not got a choice in the matter.”

 

“Stiles, do you... do you _want_ to top?” Derek asked, “Is that what this is about?”

 

“Well, yeah, but I can't because you're all-”

 

“You can top,” Derek replied, flabbergasted at his lack of understanding.

 

“What?” Stiles blinked at him in surprise, arms flailing, and Isaac sat up, grumbling about them being noisy.

  
“You can top, Stiles,” Derek stated gesturing between them, “I'm fine with you topping. I've never done it before, but you're also the first guy I've ever been with ever, so it's fine. You were always so quick to roll over for me that I just... you seemed to like it. I didn't know you didn't. You have to _tell me_ this shit. We can't all be as perceptive as you.”

 

“But you're the alpha,” Stiles gestured at all of Derek as if that were a valid point.

 

“So was my mom,” Derek huffed, “I don't really like to think about it, but I'm pretty sure that she didn't top my dad. At least not all the time, or we wouldn't have been born. And she had a _lot_ of kids.”

 

Stiles laughed lightly, and shook his head, “I did like it, Der. I do... I like what we do. It's just I felt sort of... pigeonholed.”

 

“Well, you're not,” Derek huffed, “And the denmaker thing? That's just how you fell into things based on your personality. You take care of us. It's what you do. I didn't ask to be Alpha, either.”

 

“I like taking care of the pack,” Stiles admitted, “You don't think less of me being a house spouse?”

 

“Anyone who does is a dick,” Derek stated firmly, and Isaac nodded, poking at Stiles to get under his arm again. Stiles put his arm around him and pulled him in for a snuggle. He leaned against Derek to give Isaac a better angle.

 

“That's fair,” Stiles smiled, leaning in for a kiss, “Thank you.”

 

“Insecure much?” Derek huffed, but hugged him tightly for a moment.

 

“What other roles are there in a pack?” Stiles asked, glancing down at Isaac, across at Boyd, and then back at Derek.

 

Derek sighed, thinking back to his lessons as a child, “Second to the alpha...”

 

“Okay. That sounds like me too, but okay.”

 

“Mate is not the same as Second. Then there's Enforcer, Den or Peace Maker, and Peace Keeper. Then there's the general betas and omegas grouping,” Derek shrugged slightly.

 

“So wait, how is a Peacekeeper different from a Peacemaker?”

 

“One keeps the peace, one makes it,” Derek replied dryly.

 

“Me! To both!”

 

“You can't be them all.”

 

“Just _explain it!”_ Stiles groaned, “You have the eloquence of a mime!”

 

“The second would be the sheriff, but also a political role. Enforcers are for handling problems outside the pack, usually in a very messy way. Smaller packs don't usually need a peacekeeper because the alpha and their second serve that role. It's basically a police officer. Denmaker makes sure everyone is safe and comfortable. Has what they need. A combination parental figure and therapist. Hm,” Derek paused to take a sip of water

 

“Aww, your poor throat isn't used to paragraphs!”

 

“Shut up. Healer. For humans or to treat wolfsbane poisoning. Emissaries are the historians and teachers of the groups: they were usually human druids or wiccans. Other than that it's just whatever roles packs need like lawyer, builder, whatever.”

 

“That's pretty cool,” Stiles considered.

 

“Do you understand that the role you've _naturally_ fallen into is also pretty cool?” Derek teased.

 

“Fine. I like peacemaker better than denmaker. Can I just call it peacemaker?”

  
“If you want, but some people aren't going to recognize that term,” Derek nuzzled his temple.

 

“So if we meet other packs?”

 

Derek considered for a moment, “That's my plan. Find another pack. Ask for part of their territory since most of the surrounding states are already pretty divided. There's a big pack up in Washington. I was thinking they'd give us some space they aren't using. Most werewolves only run through the woods naked during the full moon, so there's an entire big expanse of territory they aren't using when they go to their daily jobs with humans. We are used to living rough and our new betas have had difficult lives. We should adjust well to living out there.”

 

“I feel like there's more to be done to this place than the bathroom if this is going to be our central hub for a _whole pack_.”

 

“There is. I want to set up solar panels and run some electricity through here. I should have probably run wiring through the walls before covering them up, but if I have to I can always pull the paneling down and re-attach it. We don't need a lot of electricity, but I know you would like access to television and that player they brought, and sure as hell the trio aren't giving up their cell phones.”

 

Stiles chortled and Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple.

 

“This is nice,” Stiles spoke softly.

 

“Hm?”

 

“We've been doing alternate shifts or working our asses off. It's nice to sit and talk to you. We never really got the chance and I sort of thought you weren't much of a talker.”

 

“I'm honestly not,” Derek huffed, “Don't get used to it.”

 

Stiles laughed, “Don't get used to me _listening_.”

 

Derek groaned, “I'm pretty sure I had that knowledge in place long before we were mated.”

 

The trailer took a sharp turn, shaking Isaac awake again with a frustrated whimper, and then came to a decided stop. The engine cut and Derek frowned, gently shoving Stiles away and unbuckling. He headed to the window facing the truck bed and slid it open.

 

“What's happening?”

 

“We found a place to park and thought we could catch some sleep,” Boyd stated, “We've all been on day shift for weeks and we're tired. We figure we can start driving again in the morning. I doubled back a lot like you said.”

 

Erica took up the chatter, “In the mean time this is a Walmart parking lot, so the store is open and we can get anything we might need before continuing on.”

 

“I don't think we need anything right now,” Stiles frowned, “You all brought some food with you and stuff.”

 

“Light bulbs?” Erica suggested, climbing through the window like a cat rather than unlatching the doorway again. Boyd grimaced and followed her.

 

“We don't have electricity yet,” Stiles pointed out, “We'll pick it up when we actually have a need for it. It's not like we won't run across other stores.”

 

“Okay, but I'm hungry and I'd like a warm meal,” Erica replied, sitting down on the bench and frowning, “I don't know what's around this area. Maybe a McDonalds?”

 

“Nah, we're gonna cook!” Stiles grinned, “I'll whip you all up a _healthy_ meal now that I've got my oven!”

 

Stiles started it up, piling wood into the furnace and lighting it easily after years of working with fire pits in the woods. He raided their pantry, taking bell peppers and onions from the hanging baskets and olive oil and spices from the spice rack. He tossed it all into a pan and put it over the hot top of the furnace where a small, raised circle showed where the stove top was supposed to be. Eggs were collected from their cooler and he began to crack them into the pan while stirring furiously. It was heating up their small space rather fast so they opened all the windows.

 

“We're going to need an outdoor cook surface,” Boyd observed.

 

“Maybe a fold out table we can put the old propane cook top on?” Derek mused.

 

They started discussing where to put it and how and what to put over it, weighing their options. Derek frowned down anything he didn't like and Boyd read him like a book. It was a very smooth relationship. Derek didn't have to talk as often with Boyd as he did with Erica or Isaac. He liked that aspect of the solid, relaxed young man. Now that he was pack he could sling his arm around him as well, reveling in the comfort of touch that had long been denied him when he was wild out in the woods. Unfortunately, with the human aspect more memories were slowly coming forward. Stiles had already guessed his past based on his name and location, and had been very careful not to bring it up. That didn't stop the nightmares from returning, and with the smell of burning wood in their home he was starting to have flashbacks as well. He would have to face it. Wood smoke he had dealt with in the wild, so he would learn to deal with it here as well. Still, most of the year it was warm enough to cook outside and Derek was definitely going to encourage that where meats were concerned.

 

“Dinner!” Stiles called, distracting them from their discussion and Derek from his darkening thoughts.

 

Isaac had the table down and set with their stainless steel camp plates, cups, and utensils. From the hot water that boiled in the tank above the stove top Stiles had poured them all a cup of hot water. It was too hot for that shit, but nobody refused it because Stiles was in full nesting mode, eagerly plating his spanish fritata. The meal was delicious but Stiles was the only one who stirred chocolate powder into his hot water and actually drank it. Derek dunked a tea bag in his and then dropped a few ice cubes in.

 

Everyone was yawning by the time they were done eating their meal, and after giving Stiles a few nudges of appreciation they climbed up to the second story. They only had about four hours till first light, but Derek wasn't concerned. They looked a bit out of place in the parking lot but if anyone tried to enter through their less-than-stellar doorway he'd hear it and chase them off. They'd draw more attention now that they had a house being towed behind them instead of a trailer full of wood, but with Boyd along they were unlikely to have an issue with the police. So it was about making their way to their next location rather than running, avoiding more attention than they needed, and bonding before the next full moon in 17 days.

 

Their twelve by six foot nest sounded big until you added walls to lessen the space and five adults tried to squeeze in. Erica was the only one who could lay out flat without bending her knees on the short end, and her toes and head were touching either side. They laughed about it for a bit before simply curling up on their sides together within a nest of pillows. It was too hot for proper blankets but they stripped down to underwear- Derek stripped completely to everyone's amusement- and laid beneath cool sheets. Derek had Stiles as his little spoon and wasn't surprised to have Isaac pressed back to back. Erica and Boyd hesitantly curled up together as well. It felt good to be held as a werewolf, as Erica hesitantly explained. Her vibrancy now felt like a victory to Derek. He'd done that. He'd given her _life,_ and she had given him pack. He had no doubt that they were all following Erica's lead. It was in that moment that Derek realized something. There was no need to fight for a position as his Second. She had been a sort of alpha to them all before he'd come along, the rallying point that kept the boys going. Survive their hellish lifestyle to take care of Erica. Make Erica laugh. Comfort _Erica_. Erica was his Second, and with her history battling her body for years she would be a strong one as well.

 

Derek pressed a kiss to the back of Stiles' neck and let sleep take him.

 


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles trusted Derek to keep him safe, but he still stayed out of sight for the most part until they left California behind. Once they were in Washington state Stiles felt safe to leave the safety of vehicles and houses and go to more than a quiet library or super busy store where he could slip by unnoticed. His first stop was a diner, because greasy food just tasted better when you ate it in a scratchy booth seat. The puppies didn't join him, but Derek did, and by the time Stiles realized it was their first date Derek was already smiling fondly at him while he sipped on his milkshake as if it were heaven sent.

 

“You're a dork,” Derek told him, tossing the straw paper at him.

 

“Guilty,” Stiles sighed, “This is _so_ good.”

 

“I'm glad you like it,” Derek reached out to take his hand.

 

“Wow,” Stiles laughed, “We did this all backwards. Slept together. Had sex. Got married. Dating.”

 

Derek snorted, unimpressed by his description of their relationship. Instead he simply stole a curly fry despite Stiles' shouts of outrage.

 

“You can have my body, but not my curly fries!” Stiles squawked.

 

Derek laughed, “Shut up, there are kids in here.”

 

Stiles blushed and ducked his head, glancing at the offended parents. The dad gave him a thumbs up once the mom looked away and Stiles nearly choked on his milkshake. They spent a few hours laughing together, eating and talking about nothing in particular. Mostly they discussed additions and options for their tiny home. It had become their new mission, their passion, their mode of surviving and bonding as a pack. They also discussed Erica.

 

“She's like, this blonde bombshell now!” Stiles raved, “Like, wow! Did you see her at the store the other day? Trying on sexy clothes and buying make up?”

 

“I saw the bill,” Derek grumbled.

 

“Oh, let her! She's been poor and sick her whole life. She just wants to feel good about herself.”

 

Derek smiled warmly and Stiles swooned, “I love you.”

 

“I... I love you, too,” Derek replied in surprise.

 

“Why do you look shocked?” Stiles asked, reaching for the dessert menu.

 

“You've never said that to me before,” Derek replied softly.

 

“Yeah, I have,” Stiles argued, “I told you way back at the Preserve.”

 

“When I was in wolf form. Everyone loves doggies.”

 

“Pfft, you said doggies! With your angry eyebrows fully activated! Doggies!”

 

“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

 

“Okay, fine,” Stiles huffed, “What do you want me to say? I love you. I knew I loved you back then, I just didn't know if _this_ was ever going to be possible. I'm not exactly into fur.”

 

“Me neither,” Derek laughed, “Although if you had fur I'd make an exception.”

 

“I thought that was super rare? The ability to transform completely.”

 

“It's so rare that only old blood families can do it,” Derek told him, “Sometimes those we turn can as well.”

 

“That's wild,” Stiles breathed.

 

The bell above the door chimed and a chill went through Stiles. He couldn't explain it. The bell had tinkled several times during their dinner but it hadn't alarmed him. Now Stiles went still, panic coursing through him. Derek frowned at Stiles and sniffed the air. His eyes went wide and rose to look behind Stiles at whoever had entered and Stiles watched as Derek went pale.

 

“Don't move. Don't look,” Derek whispered.

 

“Who is it?” Stiles whispered back, “Did they find us?”

 

“I don't know her, but she smells like an Argent. She's with a stranger, but... he's a werewolf. He's in danger. He smells like misery and old blood.”

 

“We have to help him.”

 

“We might not be able to help ourselves.”

 

“He's been abducted by a hunter!” Stiles hissed.

 

“He's...” Derek's eyes narrowed, “He's an alpha.”

 

Stiles couldn't help himself. Now he turned and when he did his jaw dropped and he struggled out of the booth despite Derek hissing at him to not draw attention to them. Stiles practically fled across the diner to the young man and woman standing at the counter looking for a booth in the full restaurant.

 

“Scott?! Allison?!” Stiles spat out.

 

Scott turned and he and Scott both spoke at the same time: “I thought you were dead!”

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Derek watched with wide eyes as Stiles and the young man with the crooked chin hugged each other tightly, actually shedding tears. They were both talking at once, but Derek was watching the Argent rather than listening to the 'presumed dead' explanation from each of them. Kate's relative. She smelled so similar to her that it was making Derek's hackles rise. He wanted to shift and run for the first time in a long time, but she wasn't acting violent. Yet. She was staring and smiling and glancing at Derek in commiseration over the odd situation. She sidled closer and put out her hand.

 

“Hi. I'm Allison. I'm Scott's fiance.”

 

Derek stared at her. If she didn't know who he was than there was no way he was tipping his hand. She had just lost her smile and started to withdraw her hand when Derek recalled his manners and reached out.

 

“Miguel. Stiles' husband.”

 

“You're married?!” Scott cheered, “This is so amazing! I just proposed to Allison a few weeks ago! Stiles?”

 

Derek glanced over at Stiles from his awkward staring contest with Allison to see that Stiles' entire face had shuttered. He met Derek's eyes, having caught his lie about his name, and recalled that something was wrong. Scott was with an Argent and Argents were dangerous.

 

“Hey, we need to talk. Privately,” Stiles spoke, “Is anyone with you two?”

 

“My dad is at the hotel,” Allison replied, “We wanted some time away from him. He can be super intense.”

 

“I bet,” Derek rumbled.

 

“Okay, c'mere,” Stiles tugged them both to their booth and Derek gaped after him. He slid into the booth, dragging Allison in with him and leaving _Derek_ to sit next to Scott. He slid into the booth and grinned across at Scott while Derek stared across at Allison.

 

“Stiles, what are you _doing?”_ Derek hissed.

 

“We're on the run,” Stiles told Scott conspiratorially, “From hunters.”

 

Derek ran his hand down his face and started calculating how quickly he could get Stiles out _through_ the nearby window and to the truck, and if there were any police cruisers outside that might pose a problem as they escaped.

 

“Hunters?” Allison asked.

 

“Yeah, probably the Argents,” Derek snapped, “Heard of them?”

 

Scott pointed at Allison helpfully, “Allison's last name is Argent, but she doesn't hunt animals. She's an animal rights activist, right sweetie?”

 

“I sign petitions daily,” Allison replied, back to having a staring contest with Derek.

 

“I bet she does,” Derek growled out.

 

“Derek, come on,” Stiles scoffed, “It can't be Allison. She's with _Scott_.”

 

“So?” Scott laughed, “A lot has changed, Stiles. I can get dates now.”

 

“Hey!” Allison laughed, turning back to Scott and breaking the tension between them again.

 

Derek was confused.

 

“I mean one date! A date with you!” Scott laughed.

 

“And on that date,” Derek asked softly, “Does she torture you for kicks?”

 

Scott's face went shuttered, haunted eyes quickly hidden behind a facade of confusion, “What? Dude. Come on. Stiles, your husband is weird.”

 

“Then why do you smell like old blood and trauma?” Derek asked him.

 

Scott's eyes slid over to Allison for instruction and Stiles reacted. His drink flew out and hit Allison right in the eyes while she'd been busy locking gaze with Derek. She didn't blink in time and Scott's hand shot out to stop the _cup_ , not the contents. Chocolate milkshake hit her sensitive eyeballs and she shrieked in alarm. Scott shouted at Stiles for his actions, but Derek's were quicker than the young werewolf hampered by the table. He slammed his fist into the back of Scott's head and dragged him bodily out of the seat by his collar. Stiles bolted over the back and helped Derek haul a barely conscious Scott out the door while Allison shouted for help and the rest of the restaurant reacted to their sudden assault of the couple.

 

Out the door. Derek threw Scott into the back of the truck, tucking him under the tarp that kept Boyd, Erica, and Isaac's shit inside the bed. Stiles tried- and failed- to slide across the hood of the truck a la Dukes of Hazard. Instead he made the jump, slid partway across the hood, spun 180 degrees on his ass, and fell off the front onto the sidewalk between the truck and the diner. Derek sighed out his nose, gave Scott another thump that knocked him fully unconscious, and walked back around the front of the truck to pull his mate out of the tangle of his own limbs.

 

“Thank _fuck_ I turned you, you ridiculous klutz!” Derek hissed, “Get in the truck like a normal werewolf before we get shot!”

 

Stiles scrambled into the truck and buckled in, much to Derek's relief, just as people started flooding out of the diner. One was dramatically shouting for the police and Stiles gave her the disgusted gesture that required.

 

“Has she never heard of cell phones?!”

 

Derek took off fast, peeling out and heading for where they'd left their pack. So much for taking Stiles home, kicking the pack out, and fucking him on every surface. Or getting fucked. He'd been rather looking forward to that.

 

“Speaking of cell phones, call the pack. Get them moving. I want them buckled up and ready to hitch that damn thing the second we get there.”

 

“How are we having a high speed chase with a house attached?!”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, staring at his phone but not making the call, “Okay. Turn onto the highway up here, but be prepared to make a left.”

 

“What are we doing?”

 

“Escaping _before_ the chase starts.”

 

Derek spun onto the highway and then at Stiles instruction spun _off_ onto a tiny access road. They went down the dirt road, slid behind some odd little brick building with a fence around it that hummed with electricity and smelled of chemicals and probably was important to someone's power grid. For a moment Derek and Stiles just caught their breath, then the police sirens roared by and Derek tensed again.

 

“It's fine. It's fine,” Stiles soothed, “There were no cameras in the diner. I checked. We were moving at almost supernatural speed. No one got pictures, I'm sure of that. We tie up Scott, because I'm not at all sure that he's in his right mind, and we get him back to the house. Then we get the pack to move their shit back there. Then we get another truck and get the fuck out of here. We might have to wait until nightfall and they might remember this is here and search it. We have to be ready to move.”

 

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “Fuck you're brilliant.”

 

Derek pulled Stiles' head forward and kissed him firmly, “I wanna fuck you _now_.”

 

“So do I, but he's waking up.”

 

They moved into the back of the truck and used the various ties on the shit in the back to secure Scott so that he wouldn't run off and Stiles started to talk to him quietly while Derek called the pack and made arrangements with them. So far no one knew to connect the house with the truck at the diner. They could get away with a few things for a bit. Derek had bought his original truck in cash and bribed them away from filing paperwork for him, insisting he was in a hurry and would do it himself. So the license plate wasn't registered to him. Stiles had helped him fake it all. Boyd would take a pile of money and go buy a new truck while Erica and Isaac met them at the current one to unload it and help with Scott. Nightfall they would move, but by then they would have a different problem. Under the guise of night they wouldn't be the only predators on the move. The Argents were now sure of who they were after, they knew at the very least who Stiles was, and had seen Derek's face. The old pictures at the camp of Stiles had been outdated, no one had seen Derek in years, so they wouldn't have been recognizable right away. Now they were. Now they were in real danger, and the Argents hadn't lost their trail after all.

 

“What do we do?” Derek asked, sliding his hand around Stiles' waist, “We can't keep running. It's no life.”

 

“No, it isn't,” Stiles stood up, “Scott here is full-blown Stockholm Syndrome, except his Beast is quite the bitch and the townsfolk are the least of our problems. We've got at least two Gaston's after us.”

 

“Sometimes when you talk it's like a Peanuts cartoon,” Derek told him with a frown.

 

“Beauty and the Beast? Disney film?”

 

“Yeah, no, I got the symbolism, I just can't deal with it right now. This is _serious_ Stiles. You're our denmaker. Our peacemaker. Make with the peace and leave the proverbs for tales for our future cubs.”

 

“You want _kids_?” Stiles asked, looking up in alarm, “My mom died of a genetic condition. I'm not having kids.”

 

“We're both men _and_ werewolves. I think your concerns about genetics are out the window, and _this is not the time.”_

 

“We're waiting on the puppy squad. We've got time to talk cubs,” Stiles pointed out.

 

“Planning our escape isn't in your forefront right now?”

 

“I've already done that,” Stiles stated, “And explained to you how we're doing it. Make with the talk.”

 

Derek huffed, folded his arms, unfolded them, shifted his feet, and gestured between them wordlessly.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles nodded, “That helps.”

 

“You could have a woman have Derek's cubs, and that would eliminate any fear of a human child being born who could carry Stiles' serious condition,” Scott advised from the back fo the truck.

 

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Stiles waved at Scott, “But the issue here is that I've literally never thought about having my own kids. Like, ever.”

 

“Well, start thinking. It's what you do best!” Derek huffed.

 

“You really want kids?” Stiles asked, shifting a bit and staring at his shoes.

 

“Yes,” Derek admitted, feeling guilty for saying so, “Yes, I've wanted a big family since I was a kid myself. I guess I can... pare it down? Maybe only two kids?”

 

“I mean... I won't be having them,” Stiles shrugged, “We could talk to... whoever is going to... Or... whoever in the future?”

 

“Sure,” Derek nodded, “Yeah. It's just that it's a later discussion.”

 

“Sure,” Stiles nodded.

 

“Maybe deal with Scott?” Derek gestured to him, “What happened to him?”

 

“I'm right here, you two,” Scott huffed.

 

“Okay,” Derek crouched down, “What the fuck, Scott?”

 

“I'm totally rubbing off on you,” Stiles snickered.

 

“Seriously,” Derek gestured back towards the diner, “What the actual fuck? She's a _hunter_.”

 

“She's not.”

 

“Don't tell me you like being tortured for fun, because any wolf with a nose can tell you've been fucked up recently, and that you're _resigned_ to it. Not enjoying it. _Resigned._ You're an alpha werewolf. What are you doing letting someone tie you up and spank you?”

 

“She... she doesn't,” Scott replied weakly.

 

“So _who does_?” Derek demanded.

 

“Her grandfather just... he doesn't like me much. He doesn't like werewolves. If I want to stay with Allison he... he says he has to keep me weakened so he knows I won't hurt her. Because I'm an alpha. I'm... I'm worse than a regular werewolf. I'm dangerous.”

 

“He's got you buying into their rhetoric,” Derek replied softly, “They're bigots, Scott. You're no more a threat to Allison than Mexican people are to the country.”

 

“Oh yeah? Were you bit by a werewolf who killed a bunch of random people before being taken down by the Argents?”

 

“No,” Derek stated, “But my entire family was burned alive by Argents, including both human and werewolf children. I still hear their screams at night. Occasionally a werewolf is bad. Occasionally a hunter is bad. Occasionally a _Mexican_ is bad. The difference between rationale and bigotry is knowing who is the danger to whom. Hunters have their place. They do. Occasionally a werewolf _will_ go feral and if an Alpha doesn't stop them then the hunters should be like the police and take them down. That being said, the Argents don't follow the code. The code stops them from hunting werewolves who haven't done any harm. The code doesn't allow you to be tortured to keep you _docile_ and _traumatized._ The Argents? They're the small percentage of bad eggs. _”_

 

“Allison's your mate, isn't she?” Stiles asked softly.

 

Scott nodded miserably, “I'll die without her.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Derek stated, “Look at me.”

 

Scott's eyes rose and Derek flashed his red eyes, “I would never hurt Stiles. Ever. I bit him with his permission to _protect_ him. To _save_ him. I'm an alpha and I am not dangerous. Neither are you.”

 

“Does Allison know what they're doing to you?” Stiles asked.

 

“No,” Scott replied softly.

 

“Scott, you can't let this continue,” Stiles told him.

 

“She's my _mate,_ Stiles.”

 

Stiles was silent for a moment, and then suddenly turned and hurried into the woods. Derek stood up, looking after him in confusion. Derek could hear him warning their packmate's away. He didn't want Scott to see them. Derek hurried to blindfold Scott and called to Stiles that he had. Stiles allowed them to come closer and stared miserably down at Scott.

 

“We have to let him go.”

 

“What?” Derek asked.

 

“Allison's already seen our faces. Scott's doesn't have any more information to pass on to her. We ditch the truck and leave.”

 

“He's... he's our brother, Stiles,” Derek protested, “Yours emotionally and ours as a werewolf.”

 

“Sheriff's kid,” Stiles reminded, jutting a thumb towards his chest, “I know all about abusive relationships and Battered Wife Syndrome. We take him with us he will never stop trying to get back to her. He'll escape eventually, and when he does he'll have a shit ton of information to take back, and Grampy Argent will get it out of him next time Scott lets him torture him. We've got to leave for the sake of the kids, and unlike Scott I have no intention of looking back. You wanted me to be the Denmaker? I'm being the Denmaker. Pack first and Scott isn't it. Not anymore.”

 

Stiles walked over to Scott and dropped to his knees to hug him tightly, “Please, please, please. Run. Get away from them. You're worth so much more than this. I love you, Scott.”

 

“It's not... you don't understand,” Scott pleaded, “Stiles, she's not _abusing_ me. Her grandfather... he... he means well. He's just...”

 

“We need to get out of here,” Stiles spoke up, straightening as he fought back tears, “They'll track his phone to this location and we don't want to be here when they do.”

 

Stiles sobbed as he walked away, Derek's arm around his waist, but he once again fought it down. He smelled like absolute emotional devastation and Derek whined in the back of his throat in concern. Stiles might not have looked back, but Derek did.

 

They met up with the pack and they quickly unloaded the items in the back of the old truck. They carried as much as they could between he and Boyd in the tarp itself and Erica, Isaac, and Stiles carried the rest in their arms. Stiles had fought his tears back down again, but Derek had no doubt what would be happening soon.

 

Boyd had bought the new truck, and it _was_ brand new and gorgeous, and parked it on the highway. The puppies loaded it up while Derek and Stiles hung back. The truck would be searched on the way out of town. No doubt about that. Their three packmates were tasked with getting the house out of town where Derek and Stiles could meet up with them after fleeing on foot.

 

“Are you okay?” Erica asked as they hugged their alpha and denmaker before getting into the truck.

 

“I'm fine,” Stiles stated firmly, “Stay safe. We'll see you soon. Don't go running off with all that money, now.”

 

“Don't tempt me,” Erica winked.

 


	22. Chapter 22

They picked a spot and went their separate ways. Derek led the way since he was better with directions than Stiles was, at least when they weren't on the highway. Stiles and Derek took to all fours and burst into a run. They would probably beat the house on it's way to the meeting area, but that would give them a few minutes to figure out step two.

 

That is, of course, if the Argents hadn't caught up with them along the way. An arrow hit the ground by Stiles' feet, surprising him into a chaotic fall. Derek skidded to a stop and went back for him, helping get him get his feet under him and dragging him on.

 

“Split up!” Stiles shouted.

 

“No!”

 

“Yes! Go!”

 

Stiles veered off to the left and Derek to the right, and he heard his mate's panicked heartbeat at separating from him. Stiles put on another burst of speed. He had to survive for Derek. He had to make sure his mate didn't lose anyone else. That was why he'd given up on Scott so easily. He couldn't afford a new project when he had one running in the woods and another driving a _house_ to a meeting point. Stiles was the denmaker, the peacemaker, and he had to be certain that any risks would outweigh the danger that his pack was exposed to. Derek was ready to stand and fight, but they had to get to higher ground first. Even if the Argents followed them to wherever they decided to stand their ground, they at least needed to have their backs to a proverbial wall; some kind of physical barrier or a narrow area they could defend.

 

In the mean time, while Stiles' brain ran ahead of him in leaps and bounds, his arms and legs were doing the same. He could easily outrun the Argents, but they were running out of woods. This wasn't the small town that Beacon Hills or the town they'd met the pack in had been. This town had bits of woods surrounded by row after row of townhouses. So Stiles did what any werewolf who had watched far too much Marvel and DC would do.

 

He took to the roofs.

 

Stiles swung up into a tree, scaled it with a whoop of joy at getting to actually stretch his werewolf abilities for the first time, and leaped to the roof. He didn't even _slide!_ He was still clumsy and likely always would be just because he didn't _pay attention_ , but his new abilities were compensating for it a bit. Stiles ran along a house, leaped to the next, and kept going at high speed. Some teenagers saw him and he laughed and waved, knowing that they probably thought he was a kid pulling a stunt.

 

Stiles tripped his way through the next row of houses, dropped down into a yard full of high fences and bushes, and quickly hid amongst the bushes. So long as the owners didn't see him he should be safe to listen for his attackers without fear. Luck was on his side this time. He was alone in the sheltered area when someone passed by, moving slowly through the ally. Stiles would be safe from them. Once they passed he'd meet up with his mate and pack.

 

Scott leaped the fence and landed a mere three feet from Stiles making him shriek in alarm. He stared at him in horror and Scott looked back at him sadly.

 

“You're... you're _helping them hunt us,_ ” Stiles breathed in horror.

 

“I have a great sense of smell now,” Scott replied softly.

 

“You... you _bastard._ Stockholm is one thing, but you're helping them murder innocent people!”

 

“Werewolves aren't innocent people, Stiles,” Scott replied softly, puppy dog eyes big and sad.

 

“Well, clearly you're not, no,” Stiles shot back, gesturing at him sharply.

 

“Stiles... just... give yourself up.”

 

“For execution? No thanks,” Stiles replied.

 

“I don't want to hurt you.”

 

“Then _don't.”_ Stiles pleaded, “Don't do this, Scott. Let me go. I'm not hurting anyone. I never have. See? Yellow eyes. Not blue.”

 

“I...” Scott struggled a moment and then stepped forward, “I'm sorry, Stiles, but you shouldn't have accepted the bite. It's not a gift. It's a _curse._ ”

 

Scott flew at Stiles, who braced himself to fight with claws and teeth, but Scott's wrist moved in an ark and a flash blinded Stiles. He screamed covering his eyes, and tried to run and jump only to underestimate the distance and slam into the gate. The next thing Stiles knew his body had exploded in pain so intense that he quickly blacked out.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Derek heard Stiles scream, and immediately regretted separating. Stiles was running high on instincts as a new werewolf; all screaming to run in erratic patterns, to separate when chased so they could cut off their enemy from behind, and to fight when cornered. Stiles was going to make a fatal mistake because his urges were running head of his brilliant mind and Derek hadn't _trained him._ Derek was a failure as a beta and as an alpha.

 

By the time Derek detoured from his path and got back to him he was gone. A group of police officers were there instead, taking witness statements and asking what had happened. Someone's fence was damaged. Fear was making Derek's heart pound anxiously. He couldn't lose his mate. Not Stiles. Anyone but Stiles!

 

Derek knew that he had a grumpy face, one that made cops think he was going to start shit. He steered clear of them, going around the scene and following Stiles' scent to the road. Scott had dragged him to a vehicle and Stiles' scent vanished into it. A howl of agony, fury, and loss was bubbling up inside of Derek, but he pushed it down. Being abducted by the Argents was certainly the fastest way to get to Stiles, but it wasn't the smartest. He would find him. He had to. For now he had a pack to meet up with and maybe his second would have a decent fucking idea, because Derek was the Alpha of being kicked while he was down.

 

Derek made it to the meeting point, and his betas burst out of the house to surround him, hugging him tightly and nuzzling into his neck and chest. He held them tightly, taking strength from them as he breathed in their mingled scent. They smelled like Stiles still and it made Derek's chest ache.

 

“What took you so long?” Erica asked anxiously.

 

“Where's Stiles?” Isaac wanted to know of his favorite person to tease.

 

“We got a ticket,” Boyd told Derek, “Apparently some of our build's lighting isn't to code. We'll have to fix that.”

 

“Later,” Derek told him, “The Argents got Stiles. Scott helped them.”

 

“No,” Erica whimpered, but her eyes flashed dangerously. She was definitely his second.

 

“We're going to get him back. Let's get planning. We know they want me, too. I'm not above being bait. We have to assume that Scott told him that there are more of you, but he has no idea how many. Let's make that work in our favor.”

 

Three hours later they had a working plan. Derek was proud of it. They were going to use a hunter trick to make it seem like there were even more of them. Derek was hoping that their back and forth movements and Scott's isolation from other wolves meant his senses hadn't helped him determine how many there were of them. They wanted the Argents to think they were surrounded. Derek would lure them back into the woods where they could battle safely and Isaac would psych them out using their phones to make wolf howls in the distance. Derek's plan was a simple grab and go, and he was well aware that it had a lot of risks involved. There was a very good chance that his packmates would be shot and killed. He was doing his best to warn them, give them some crash-course training, and talk them through running away as quickly as possible rather than fighting.

 

It was while Isaac was playing on his phone, working out the sounds of werewolf howls to disorient the Argents, that he ran across the videos. They were of Scott, partially transformed, being tortured as if for some sort of educational tutorial. An old man was pointing out the weak spots on werewolves and explaining how to deal with them. He specified that Scott was a volunteer, but that he was always ready to 'put him down' if and when he became less docile. People following the vlog seemed to think that it was a BDSM kinky role play thing, and routinely called Gerard Argent Scott's 'Daddy'.

 

It was while Isaac and the pack were watching the torture in horror that a new video was suddenly uploaded and when it started playing Derek's stomach twisted and squeezed until he nearly threw up on the spot. He'd never heard Stiles' inner fox scream in pain, but he didn't have to have a comparison to recognize it. His mate was being tortured.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles came around in a basement, because the Argents were nothing if not cliché drama queens. That was something that Stiles learned rather quickly, namely when Gerard came downstairs to monologue to Stiles' dangling form. Apparently (blah blah blah) he was going to rid the world of the disgusting vermin that were werewolves, and the irony of having a werewolf help him was his greatest joke on the species.

 

Scott was on the stairs, looking miserable and full of regret as he stared at Stiles.

 

“You lied to me,” Stiles accused, purposely ignoring Gerard, then narrowed his eyes in confusion, “Wait, how did you lie to me? Your heartbeat never faltered.”

 

“I never lied,” Scott replied.

 

Stiles played their conversation back while Gerard got his tools together and set up a camera to record their 'session'. He seemed inimpressed by Stiles ignoring the power-hungry mogul. Stiles, thankfully, had more than one trick up his sleeve.

 

“No, you didn't,” Stiles deflated a bit, “You didn't lie, but you did betray us. We're your own kind, Scott.”

 

“Allison is my mate,” Scott reminded him, his voice broken, “She is the one who I owe my loyalty to. You _vanished,_ Stiles. I was away for housebreaking with Gerard and-”

 

“ _Housebreaking?_ Dude. Weak.”

 

“When I came back you were _gone_. There were people who said you ran because you were a murderer and others who said you got your nose into too much dirt and were taken out for it. Everyone assumed that you were dead. Nobody spent that long in the Preserve and survived. Of course, if I'd known you were a werewolf I wouldn't have thought you were dead, but you never even _looked_ for me.”

 

“Dude. They found your _arm_. Your chewed off arm, I might add.”

 

“It grew back,” Scott replied.

 

“That's... not even a thing werewolves do,” Stiles argued.

 

“It is when they're injected with Kanima blood,” Gerard interjected, “Jackson provided me with quite a harvest over time before his little sweetheart managed to get him away from me.”

 

“You were the kanima master? I thought it was Matt! You _bastard_. People _died._ Human people! What the fuck _is_ your code? Do you just murder anyone who cuts you off in the line at Denny's?”

 

“Oh, Matt was eventually arrested for murder,” Gerard laughed, “I lured in the Kanima after that. Instead of having him kill wantonly I collected his blood and venom for my own uses. It has been most effective in the treatment of the cancer I had and your friend here's missing arm. Pity his little banshee bitch tamed him.”

 

“You don't deserve to lick the soles of Lydia's _feet!”_ Stiles shrieked.

 

“There, that should do it,” Gerard stated, stepping away from the camera, “Now. Smile for the camera, Mr. Stilinski. You're about to teach the world a very valuable lesson.”

 

“What kind of lesson?” Stiles asked, “I'm more of a facts and statistics kind of guy and the sort of stuff you teach is more of the burning cross style. Not so sure I want to be a part of that. How about a rousing debate instead? You'll scream about the master race, I'll remind people that genocide is seriously wack. It will be spirited and guaranteed to bring in the likes!”

 

“Today,” Gerard spoke to the camera, “I will introduce you all to a new creature. A werefox. Now, we've talked about how Scott is a werewolf on a few episodes, but unfortunately everyone seems to believe it's a joke or some trick of the camera. So I'm filming this live so there is no doubt that things have been altered afterwards. I see a few of you have already joined us, so let's get started. I've spoken before about how my vlog is _not_ about kink-”

 

“Help!” Stiles screamed, “Help! My name is Mieczysław Stilinski and I've been abducted! Help!”

 

“Well, that's quite annoying, isn't it!” Gerard laughed awkwardly, then hit a button on his handheld device that sent electric current buzzing through Stiles' body. His back arched, his teeth clenched, and his body shook on the suspension rack. The second it stopped he gasped for breath and real fear started to curl through him.

 

“Now, Stiles,” Gerard scolded lightly, “The whole point of this video is to prove that non-human bipedal creatures capable of imitating human speech and social patterns exist. You are not a person, so you can not be abducted. Therefore you have no legal rights. No one is coming to rescue you.”

 

“He's crazy!” Stiles shouted, “I was last in Castle Rock, Washington! I'm 19 years old! I'm-” Stiles was interrupted by another bolt of current, “-I'm fucking terrified.”

 

Stiles broke down, sobbing brokenly as Gerard began to detail that werefoxes reacted to wolfsbane similarly to werewolves, but that they required stronger or combination strains to have the same effect. He then illustrated Stiles' healing capability by using a police baton on his face. Stiles was bruised and bleeding, sobbing brokenly as the man ignored his pain, focused entirely on the camera and his goal of proving werecreatures existed and were subhuman monsters in need of eradication.

 

“Note the claws,” He stated, having Scott direct the camera to his hands and then shocking just the palm with a cattle prod so that Stiles' claws sprang out.

 

“Stop,” Stiles begged, “Please stop. Red. I don't fucking consent. _Please just let me go!”_

 

Stiles was going for anything that would convince viewers that he wasn't willing, was a victim, and that Gerard was breaking laws and the hunters code while they watched. It wasn't entirely an act. His cries of pain were morphing to howls of pain as the video went on an on and Gerard switched to a knife to show his healing in detail.

 

“As you can see, they do not die easily. That seems appealing to many, who might ask to be turned out of fear of death or illness, but this is not a gift. It is a curse. Every month the moon destroys their sanity and they become raging beasts, set on rape and murder.”

 

“I've never hurt anyone in my life. I don't fit the code. I don't violate the code!” Stiles sobbed.

 

“They are brutes, monsters, beasts, not... sparkly romantic interests.”

 

“That's vampires,” Scott intoned.

 

“Shut up, bitch,” Gerard scolded lightly, his tone sounded as if he were giving advice. There was no bite to it. It didn't match his words. He was a complete sociopath, manipulative and utterly insane.

 

“Derek,” Stiles whimpered, howling weakly. It was instinct. He didn't really want Derek to come. He didn't want his mate to be in danger, but he couldn't stop himself from howling for him even as he begged him to stay away, “Derek. My love, run. Run, please. Don't... don't... don't come after me.”

 

“This particular fox is in with a group of werewolves, and I happen to know a bit about them as we eliminated most of the Hale pack many years ago. In fact, we thought we'd gotten them all. Sadly my dearest daughter was murdered by one of them in the final confrontation with their second to last alpha. Now we find out that Derek Hale survived, and is in fact the current alpha. He's turned this one. Why that is important is because sometimes the creatures can pass on traits via the bite. If that is the case with this one you will be _truly_ convinced, because Hales are capable of fully transforming into an animal form. Let's see if I can provoke a full turn.”

 

“No. No. No,” Stiles was reduced to whimpers, shaking as he hung on the torture rack.

 

Gerard was approaching him with what looked like an innocuous daisy chain net. It was aconite flowers. Wolfsbane. Weaved into a net similar to werewolf burial rituals, which would force the change on the occupant of the grave... or prison. Stiles was reduced to whimpers and weak keens, too damaged to even cry out or howl anymore.

 

_I'm going to die here. I'm going to die here and Derek will never get his cubs. He's going to go wolf full time again and hide because you can only lose so much before you lose yourself, and he's lost everything once already._

 

Gerard had gloves and an apron on to protect him from the aconite, which he now threw over Stiles' body. It encased him in smothering stench, it actually felt _hot_ , but more stifling than burning. What hurt this time was Stiles' _bones_. Forcing the change was painful, and Stiles had never transformed fully into a fox. Now he was facing the nightmare that was his body snapping and remolding into a much smaller and differently shaped creature by force, without guidance or the comfort of pack.

 

Logically Stiles knew that he was big for a fox, but he felt small. Small and helpless, cowering beneath a wolfsbane net and shaking with pain. He had never felt so absolutely defeated in his entire life. His most depressed hadn't been as devastating as this moment. This point that should have been an accomplishment, one that sent Derek dancing on four legs across a forest floor while his pack laughed and applauded at his full vulpine form. Instead he was cowering on a cold, cement floor, gekkering in fear at an old man who was smiling down at him in a perversely fatherly fashion.

 

“Well, isn't he gorgeous? I think I'll keep him alive. I've always fancied having zoos for these creatures. We must learn from history, after all, and what better way than to showcase them much as I am doing for you? Well, I think that's all we need for today. Scott, clean him up while I say a farewell to our viewers.”

 

Scott handed the camera off and headed for Stiles, who skittered as far as he could with the net weakening him to the mobility of a newborn kitten.

 

“Come here, Stiles,” Scott spoke up, and for the first time Stiles saw that his cheeks were soaked with tears. He'd been silently crying the entire time.

 

That didn't stop Stiles from biting him the second he got a chance, but Scott barely flinched at the mere pinch. What Stiles succeeded in doing was fucking up his gloves, and once the net touched Scott's skin he partially transformed and staggered weakly. The net fell away and Stiles saw his opening. The net's power vanished, leaving him strong enough to run and jump. None of his legs were broken, although he was still bleeding profusely thanks to the repeated applications of wolfsbane on some wounds to show the stilted healing.

 

Stiles made it for a black painted window and burst through it, shattering glass and getting more in his wounds. He struggled through the opening and shot through the property. A garden caught his eyes as a proper hiding spot, but it was on instinct rather than logic. He wasn't safe there. The garden was were they grew _wolfsbane_.

 

Allison was in the garden, pulling up weeds when Stiles darted in, realized his mistake, and made to turn away before either Allison or the poisonous plants could harm him. Thankfully the wide rows kept him from touching the plants by accident, but Allison was shockingly quick for a human.

 

“Where do you think you're going?” She asked, a pair of garden shears pressed to Stiles' shoulder blades pinning him to the ground.

 

Stiles froze, sorrow and fear making him whine pitifully. He was still weak from the net. He couldn't escape. _Again_!

 

“Grandpa isn't done with you yet,” She hissed.

 

_Scott was wrong. She does know!_

 

“Allison!” Scott ran towards them both, “Oh, you caught him.”

 

“What's a fox doing here?” Allison asked him in shock, “There aren't even chickens at this safehouse!”

 

“It's Stiles. You remember? From the diner. He, uh, he came to visit me and... apologize to you!”

 

“This is him? I didn't know he could turn into a fox!”

 

Her heartbeat wavered. Allison had to have been painfully careful up until this point, to make sure she avoided any sort of lie. Omissions, obfuscation, distraction, and yes, asking questions instead of making statements, all those things could be used to avoid an actual lie. She had just trailed too close to the other side, where she might not have known but had suspected, and Stiles saw the moment when Scott's world shattered. It was one thing for him to ally himself with his enemy, even enduring torture and betraying loved ones, to stay close to his precious, loving mate who was innocent of all evil. It was another to realize that she was in fact aware that Stiles was the injured fox, and that meant she knew that he had been being tortured in that basement to force a change. That meant she knew that _Scott_ had been. It meant that rather than Scott hiding among the enemy to stay close to his beloved, his precious mate was actually the enemy. Allison had just joined the ranks of his abusers and Scott's breath wheezed in his lungs.

 

For a terrifying moment Stiles thought Scott was having an asthma attack and had an internal freak out about not having his spare inhaler on hand. Then he remembered Scott wasn't asthmatic anymore. He was a werewolf. A werewolf who had just realized his pack wasn't a group of humans, but a nest of vipers. He was having a panic attack.

 

Allison, to her credit, must have truly loved him, because she abandoned her hunter tactic of pinning Stiles to the ground and leaped over him to rush to Scott instead.

 

“Oh my goodness! Scott! What happened? What's wrong? Did you get too close to the plants?”

 

“You... you... you...” Scott was stuttering.

 

Stiles couldn't stay to convince him to run. He'd just stood by and watched Stiles be _tortured_ , and killing him hadn't been entirely off the table. Scott had made his bed by working with the Argents, he was going to have to lie in it. Stiles bolted and on his way into the nearest batch of bushes he ran across, of all things, a werewolf. An unknown werewolf.

 

Stiles stuttered to a stop. A stranger with mocha skin, possibly Native American, was standing in the bushes with a shot gun in his hands. He stared down at Stiles for a moment and Stiles stared up at him, gekkering threateningly until the man spoke.

  
“I'm sorry, little one,” He spoke, “Not all hunters are sick like them.”

 

He stepped aside and gestured for Stiles to leave. Stiles wasn't about to look a gift human in the mouth. He fled through the woods, heedless of direction in his longing to get away from that dangerous house. Behind him the screams of humans filled the air, but Stiles had no heart left for them.

 


	25. Chapter 25

The vixen's scream, it was called, and it wasn't a pretty sound even when it was being used to call for a mate. Mix in fear and anxiety and it was a thing of nightmares. They were blood curdling howls that sounded like a small child being tortured but was actually his _mate_ being tortured. Derek had wanted to run straight to Stiles once he heard the screams from the video outside of the little phone, a haunting echo in the distance that finally told him _where_ his mate was. His pack stopped him, all three piling on top of him, but it wasn't to keep him from running to Stiles. They wanted to do so as well. Instead it was because the moment he'd burst out their door they'd found themselves facing a stranger.

 

His pack had tackled him with the sole intention of stopping the Argent's bullets with their bodies. He really had to work on adopting packmates who didn't have death wishes as strong as his own. It was starting to inhibit his ability to function.

 

Derek shrugged his pack off, shoving them when they tried to cover him again. He faced the new threat and let out a low warning growl.

 

“I don't have time for this,” Derek fumed.

 

“Not even for an old family friend?” Satomi Ito asked, exuding calm and power with every calculated motion.

 

“My mate's been abducted by hunters,” Derek told her, wincing as another scream rent the air. It made his blood screech like nails on a chalkboard.

 

“Your pack is inexperienced and untrained. This is not a battle they will win alone. I have sent those I trust ahead to free him. The Argents violated the code. They will be dealt with by their own people... except for Gerard. I have been meaning to avenge my dear friend Talia for a long time. Ready yourselves and we shall bring him to you.”

 

Stiles let out a broken sound that broke off partway through and Derek's heart stuttered, tears trying to work their way to the surface.

 

“I can't just stay here,” Derek replied, whine in his throat.

 

Satomi nodded her understanding, and Derek ordered his pack to prepare to flee. Satomi might have been ancient, but she was _fast_. Derek took to all fours and they moved through the town and towards the sounds of silence. Stiles had gone stopped screaming for far too long and Derek feared the worst.

 

They were nearly there when a ball of orange fluff and fear took out Derek's legs. He hit the ground, landing on his chin and skidding. The fuzz ball returned, but this time to press against him, licking his face and tugging at his fur to pull him along. Derek got his legs under him, glanced to where Satomi had gone on ahead of him, and decided that revenge wasn't what he needed. Stiles was. He had his mate and he was injured and afraid. Besides, Derek could already smell blood. This wasn't his battle, and since he'd been a child when it had started it _never should have been._ Derek transformed to a human for ease and scooped Stiles' shaking body into his arms. He gently took Stiles' pain as human screams and the scent of Gerard's blood filled the air. Whatever had happened, it was done and it no longer concerned Derek. Stiles was his future, and he was belly up in Derek's arms, fluffy tail wagging between his legs as he chittered and yipped at Derek in obvious relief. Derek stood up and started for home without a backward glance.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Stiles got his pack moment when Derek returned to the tiny house. Erica shrieked like a banshee when she saw him and immediately buried both hands in his tail as it rested over his belly. Stiles' tail waggled out of control and Isaac was next to show his appreciation. He buried his face in Stiles' ruffled neck and breathed in, nuzzling at him lovingly. Boyd scratched at his ears, smiling bigger than Stiles had ever seen.

 

“We thought we'd lost you,” Boyd spoke softly.

 

“Come here, sweetie, come to auntie Erica,” Erica cooed.

 

Derek growled and pulled Stiles away from her. Stiles echoed his sentiment with an irritated round of gekkering. Isaac looked intrigued by the sound, but the rest seemed to get his rejection. Nobody was _baby talking_ Stiles. Or taking him out of his mate's arms after such a traumatic event.

 

“Boyd, drive. We're heading north fast. I don't trust any hunter's promise of safe passage. Even if it came from Satomi as well. The rest of you buckle in.”

 

“Where are you going?” Erica asked.

 

“Upstairs.”

 

Derek headed upstairs with his mate and but didn't latched the door behind them, making sure the pack knew they were welcome to join them. Technically it wasn't allowed for them to be up there while moving, but he wasn't concerned at the moment. He just wanted to be with his mate and _away_ from there as quickly as possible. Besides. They were werecreatures. They'd be fine.

 

“So,” Derek laid Stiles down on their bedding and curled around him, pulling the bedding that smelled of their pack close but not covering him in the heat of their second story, “Home sweet home. Safe and sound. My beautiful mate.”

 

Derek nuzzled into his fur and Stiles yipped while nuzzling right back. They were both exhausted, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to hold him. The problem was that he couldn't figure out how to change back and Derek was more interested in sleeping and snuggling than instructing. They'd been running since Stiles' bite so he hadn't received the kind of information that Derek should have provided for them.

 

Stiles sighed and decided that it wasn't worth the fuss of trying to communicate in furry form. Derek's perpetually grouchy disposition was pretty clear now. If Stiles was frustrated with his inability to get his needs met just in a few hours than Derek must have been going buggy. Eventually Boyd found a place to park and called to them that they were staying for the night.

 

Erica and Isaac were up the stairs first, hesitant to approach them. Derek had laid down the long way in the bedroom, which left room for three people to curl up down by their feet. It was a way of separating their little bedroom if couples wanted to be slightly apart from the pack. However, when the others joined them Stiles squirmed away and shifted towards the middle of the bed chamber. Derek joined him after Boyd kicked the trap door shut, and the pack all snuggled in together. Boyd's thick arms were wrapped around Derek's back, holding his alpha tightly. It was almost an apology and Stiles realized how impotent they must have felt. Derek had talked about training them. They needed it, but he was so militant. Stiles would have to intervene as peacemaker to ensure he didn't just whip them into shape.

 

Stiles was curled up against Derek's belly and Isaac had taken his other side, fingers moving slowly through Stiles' fur. He asked if it was alright and Stiles gave his chin a lick in response. Erica was behind Boyd where Stiles couldn't see her. He wanted to call her back around. He wanted her _closer_. He wanted to be in the center of his pack, but he couldn't _talk_. It was so frustrating he started gekkering again without meaning to.

 

The noise was grating in their tiny space and they were all quick to try to soothe him. Isaac suggested water, which Stiles _did_ want. It was fetched for him. That was much needed. Food was next, and Stiles eagerly gulped down some pop tarts as a quick solution in a hurry when they were all tired. That was nice, but still not what he _wanted_. Finally he simply grabbed onto Erica's sleeve and pulled her where he wanted her. She could woo Boyd another day. Stiles needed her to be in his sight or in contact, and that meant behind Isaac. Erica was confused but allowed it, lying down and slinging her arm past Isaac to rest on his flank once he lied back down. Stiles relaxed instantly and the rest of the pack responded to it.

 

“I think he wanted you closer,” Isaac whispered.

 

“I'm not going to whine about it. That _fur!_ Can we keep him this way?”

  
“I'd say he was quieter, but he's not,” Isaac snickered.

 

Stiles nipped his arm and Derek chortled, “Shh. Sleep, pups. Sleep.”

 

When Stiles woke up he found that he was finally back to himself, having turned in his sleep. It wasn't painful this time around because it hadn't been forced and Stiles hadn't been worried when he was out cold. He still didn't know how to control it, but he could learn that after he and Derek made their acquaintance once again.

 

Stiles twisted about and rubbed up against Derek's body, sliding his hand over a firm bare chest. Derek's chest hair was worthy of worship so Stiles nuzzled into it and found a nipple to suck. Derek hummed and sighed in his sleep, one hand coming up to thread through Stiles' hair. Stiles growled playfully and Derek responded in his sleep, letting out a short, deep growl in acceptance of the challenge.

 

Then Derek simply... pulled away.

 

“Hon?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek left without a word, leaving Stiles worrying that he'd done something wrong. They had explicit consent. Maybe Derek needed the bathroom?

 

Stiles shifted and peered down the open trap door. Derek had gone into the bathroom. Down below he could see Boyd sleeping on the bench-cum-second bed. Isaac was washing up in the kitchen, the smell of food still high in the air. Erica was up and reading by the light of some candles and glanced up towards him.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just... waiting for Derek. Uh... you might wanna cover your ears or something.”

 

“Uh, no. I'm a 20 year old virgin. I'm listening in.”

 

Stiles nodded, “That's fair.”

 

Derek exited the bathroom still drying off his balls, gave Erica a glare to remind her to stay silent, and walked passed her to climb back up into their bedroom.

 

“All good?” Stiles asked.

 

“Wanted to freshen up,” Derek told him.

 

“I should probably-”

 

“I don't think you'll need to,” Derek replied, pushing gently on Stiles' chest to lower him onto his back.

 

“Uh... I mean, I don't want you all up in my ass sweat, so...”

  
“I'm not going near your ass this time,” Derek snorted, “And you smell good. Like woods and pack.”

 

“I kinda rolled in the dirt on the way home, so that makes sense,” Stiles laughed, “You sure?”

 

“His smell is gone. The fear scent is gone. You smell like pack and my mate. I don't want the smell of soap, Stiles. I want _your_ scent.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles shrugged, trying not to let his disappointment show, “I still think you're passing up anal for body funk, but you do you. Hands or mouths?”

 

“Who said anything about giving up anal?” Derek's eyebrows waggled suggestively and Stiles' mouth went dry.

 

“Oh. _Oh!”_

 

Derek gave Stiles a predatory grin as he straddled his thighs. He directed that sharp gaze down to Stiles' cock, which was rising off of his thigh as he thickened without a single touch. Derek let his lupine features drop as he moved onto his knees and hovered over him menacingly. Stiles broke out in goosebumps, shivering under his hungry gaze. Derek was bottoming literally, but not spiritually. He was going to take Stiles into his body and absolutely wreck him.

 

However, after the violent day that Stiles had had the night before, this wasn't quite what he wanted. Derek saw the hesitation, that edge of almost fear, and retreated a few inches. Derek's head tilted to one side and his entire face softened to a gentle concern.

 

“Stiles?”

 

“Just... can we be slow? Can we do that? You can still be all topping from the bottom and make love to me while being sweet and gentle, right?”

 

“Yes,” Derek smiled softly, “I can do that.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles breathed out, muscles relaxing in increments, “Sorry.”

 

“Never be sorry for asking me for what you need,” Derek insisted, eyebrows turning sharp.

 

“Yes, my alpha. My mate.”

 

To Stiles' surprise Derek handed _him_ the lube, and Stiles squirmed in excitement at the idea of opening him up. Then Derek set about kissing the memories of the night before out of his mind. Their mouths dragged together, rough stubble and soft lips, slick tongues and sharp teeth, and Stiles nearly lost the plot while teasing Derek's rim with two slippery fingers.

 

“Come on, Stiles,” Derek growled, shifting back on his digits, “Fuck me with those sexy digits.”

 

Stiles snorted against his mouth, making Derek pull back in disgust, “Sexy digits?!”

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

“You're such a closet fanfic writer.”

 

“I have no idea what any of that means, but if you're not up to this-”

 

“No! I am! I am!”

 

Stiles pulled him back down into a kiss and pressed a finger into his body at the same time. Derek moaned through that first press, not afraid to shift down against his hand. Werewolf healing meant that Stiles didn't have to go slow, but he wasn't about to make Derek regret it either. He moved to two fingers fairly quickly, and Derek's body jumped as he felt a sudden shock of pleasure.

 

“Derek, meet your prostate,” Stiles whispered smugly.

 

“Pleasure's all mine,” Derek panted, trying to get more and succeeding only in pulling off of Stiles' fingers.

 

“Hold still,” Stiles chided.

 

He slid three in this time and Derek took them like a champ. He was trying to hold still now, but his hips kept rocking and his cock was bouncing and dripping precome onto Stiles' belly. Derek was moaning constantly, cheeks flushed with pleasure and lips parted as he sighed in bliss.

 

Stiles knew the second he was inside Derek he was going to lose all control. Derek's mouth and hands had been all that had wrapped around his cock in the past besides Stiles' own grip. He knew that Derek averaged two orgasms during sex, pushing himself to three or four during full moons. They were well away from a full moon, so Stiles had to get him off at least once to be the considerate lover he wanted Derek to know him as. He used a trick he'd learned on himself while seeking relief when alone and without any visual stimulation; prostate milking. On himself he'd use muscle contractions, kegels, to flex his abdominal muscles and push his prostate against his fingers rather than rubbing with his digits. Doing this to Derek was a bit more difficult. He found his prostate and began a gentle come hither movement. He firmed it up when Derek looked less than impressed. Once he managed it he had to fight the cramp in his hand, but Derek's vibrant reaction was worth it.

 

“Like that?” Stiles growled, leaning up to give his shoulder a nip, “Feel that spark through your body? All the way up to the tips of your pointy ears?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, it's good. _Really_ good,” Derek panted, starting to move again.

 

Derek was fucking himself back on Stiles' fingers while Stiles stared up at him in shock. He looked like a Greek god in a painting, tortured with pleasure and finding relief at Stiles' very willing hands. Sweat glistened in their steamy little bedroom and his cock was dripping on Stiles' belly, occasionally drooling heavily. Derek kept glancing down at the pool on Stiles' body in shock. He'd clearly never experienced this before, and Stiles was excited for his climax.

 

“I want you to do something for me, my gorgeous alpha,” Stiles purred.

 

“Uh,” Derek managed.

 

“Clench your muscles for me. Your abs. Like you're working your- _that's it!”_

 

“God, Stiles, I'm close,” Derek groaned, body beginning to tremble as Stiles worked him over, “Your fingers are fucking _magic.”_

 

He wasn't sure if he would know to work the right muscles, but Derek responded beautifully. He let out a ragged cry and Stiles felt the first hot splash on his face as Derek went from little milked out climaxes to a full on orgasm and came without a single caress to his turgid flesh. Derek hovered over him, taut as a bowstring, as Stiles worked him through his orgasm until he keened and pulled away a bit.

 

“Holy shit!” Derek wheezed, “Fucking hell, Stiles!”

 

“Prostate milking is for warriors,” Stiles grinned.

 

“I'm in love with your fingers,” Derek groaned, “But you were supposed to fuck me.”

 

“Do you... you want to stop?” Stiles asked, spirits dropping.

 

“No,” Derek shook his head, “But you're literally on top now.”

 

Derek flopped off of him and onto his back, rolled onto his belly, spread his legs, and went completely boneless with a heavy, contented sigh.

 

“Well, alright then!”

 

Stiles pounced on him, more than happy to grind into that bubble butt. He didn't even bother wiping off the copious amounts of come. He liked the scent anyway. Derek's ass was firm with muscle covered with the perfect amount of cushion for the pushing. Stiles slicked up his cock spread Derek's cheeks, and admired his rosebud. Derek's pucker was red from all the stimulation so far, gaping and wet with lube. He added more because there was no way he was going to disappoint now. With Derek gone lax Stiles was going to enjoy himself and blow him after.

 

Stiles leaned forward, lined himself up carefully, and slipped and slid before finally sinking into Derek's hot body. Derek's entrance swallowed him up and Stiles let out the deep groan that the wonder of topping deserved. He loved having his ass ravaged, but this was a different level. Derek was wrapped around his cock, a hot silken sheath that made Stiles' brain melt. He had enough sense to not lean on his prostate, but he sure as hell wasn't capable of much else. He lay across Derek and snapped his hips fast and hard until he came with satisfied grunt.

 

He didn't want to stop, and Derek was a happy lump beneath him so Stiles paused a second to catch his breath and then continued at a more sedate pace. His kissed along Derek's neck and shoulder before simply laying his head on his lover's shoulder and slowly rocking into his body.

 

“Der,” Stiles breathed.

 

“Mm?”

 

Stiles didn't really have anything to say that wasn't a porn cliché so he just pressed another kiss to Derek's shoulder and sped up a bit. Slowed down. Sped up. Began a long, deeper thrust that teased the tip of his cock along Derek's passage. And finally came in a long, shuddering release that left him draped over Derek in a sweaty, sticky heap of exhausted werecreature.

 

“Get off me.”

 

“No.”

 

“Stiles, we're going to be _glued_ together.”

 

“Shhhh, just accept our fate.”

 

“You're an idiot.”

 

“An idiot who _rocked your world.”_

 

“ _...”_

 

“Aww, yeah, you're totally not denying it.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

Derek's pack were afraid. He could smell the fear, and so could Stiles. His precious mate was absolutely neck deep in his natural role as the person who solved problems, planned out solutions, and chided his packmates into following his directions. Isaac's past reared it's head, triggered by the recent distress, and he started balking whenever someone opened the trunk seating as if afraid they would force him into it and sit on the lid. So Stiles sent him out to learn how to hunt with Derek. When Boyd and Erica started whispering about leaving he ranted at them about loyalty until they sagged in shame. _He saved you. He saved you both. From a hellish life of sickness and depression. So it's hard, is it? Life isn't easy, princesses! Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something!_ Then he addressed their fears directly. Derek's attempts to train them had been violent and angry, just like the man himself. Stiles' methods of training them were more practical.

 

“Good,” Stiles whispered, “Now steady... aim... and... _go!”_

 

Erica's spear shot out and buried itself in the bass, bringing a shriek of delight from the excited young woman. Boyd was on the shore taking solace in weaving a net that would become a trap in the quickly set up defenses around their home. Isaac and Boyd were building Stiles' outdoor cooking shelf that would fold up to travel. It was a simple folding table with a galvanized steel cover to protect it from the heat of cooking. They were making one final stop at the home improvement supply store to finish off the bathroom and fix the legal aspects of their tail lights and Stiles was determined to make sure they were kept busy to keep their minds focused.

 

However, while at the store picking out the walling for the bathroom, an officer approached Stiles and Erica and flashed a badge.

 

“You're not in trouble, son,” The officer gave him a curious and concerned look, “A customer recognized you from the video and called it in. I guess it really was a prank if you're here safe and unharmed. You are Meechy-clause Stilinski?”

 

Stiles hissed in a breath, “Oh, so close.”

 

The man pulled a baggie full of flowers from his pocket and Stiles recoiled in fear. Stiles thought he kept his face under control, but he sure as hell didn't stop the whine of fear from crawling up his throat, and his hand shot out to grab Erica's blouse. _Protect me_ couldn't have been written on his face any clearer unless they'd used a sharpie.

 

The officer's face darkened, “Not a prank, then.”

 

Walking into a police station was agonizing for several reasons. Erica's senses were bothering her still so she leaned against him in anxiety, and Stiles automatically looked for his dad. It hurt. So much. Stiles was led to a Detective's office and sat down. The man gave him a careful look and then shook his head and mumbled about kids playing pranks.

 

“It wasn't a prank,” Stiles told him.

 

It was out there. There was little use denying it. People apparently were believing it even if the sight of Stiles unharmed had put them back into the realm of disbelief. Stiles glanced at Erica and they both let their features out. The man's eyes widened and he went a bit pale and stank of fear, but he didn't react violently. He just leaned forward, swallowed hard, and put on what Stiles had called his dad's 'victim face'.

 

“Son, do you need to talk to someone? I get that you might not need a doctor, doctor, but what you went through was a traumatic experience. I have a friend who I can call down to help you find someone to assist you. I... understand you're homeless?”

 

“Basically,” Stiles shifted a bit, reaching out to take Erica's hand for the support. She squeezed his hand firmly.

 

“We're taking care of him,” She stated.

 

“We?”

 

“His mate, my friends, and I. We're pack.”

 

“Pack. Like... a pack of wolves? Or is that offensive?”

 

“That's accurate, actually,” Stiles replied, “I appreciate this, but I'm fine. Really.”

 

“Fine enough to answer some questions?”

 

Erica was nodding but Stiles' Spidey Sense was tingling.

 

“What kind of questions?”

 

“About what happened to Gerard Argent and his family after the tape went off?”

 

“I can give you a sketch of the guy who went in there with a shotgun as I was running out,” Stiles stated with a shrug, “He said something about being a hunter. I know they have a code, but I don't know much about it. We don't exactly mingle.”

 

“So you... had nothing to do with them?”

 

“Don't even know their names, no.”

 

“You just... ran?”

 

“I was pretty fucked up... er... sir,” Stiles pointed out, “I may heal quicker than you do, but I still feel pain, and they'd poisoned me as well. It took me well into the next morning to heal. For me that's long, and during that whole time I was vulnerable.”

 

“And your pack?”

 

“Were never near there,” Stiles replied, “I ran into my mate while limping back and he took me back to our pack. We left the area immediately. Tails between our legs and everything. I... do have a question, though.”

 

“Go on,” He replied carefully.

 

“There was... an old friend. A former packmate. He was in there with them. Scott McCall?”

 

The man shuffled some papers, glanced down at them, and then glanced back up expectantly.

 

Stiles swallowed hard, “Is he... alive?”

 

“We don't know,” The man replied, “There was a lot of gore in there and nobody had prints in the system. Would you be willing to identify the bodies?”

 

“We should go,” Erica hissed.

 

“No. No, I want to,” Stiles insisted.

 

“Stiles, you'll be looking at the bodies of the people who fucked you up. I know from Isaac that the results of abuse creep up on you hard later on. Sometimes at random moments. This won't be a random moment. You'll be fucking triggered and I'm not exactly a comforting person.”

 

“It'll be fine,” Stiles replied firmly.

 

“If you cry I'm going to punch you,” She told him with wide panicked eyes.

 

Stiles smiled at her reaction, “Not the face.”

 

“You suck,” She breathed.

 

The ride to the morgue was quiet, the officer apparently believing him or at least postponing judgment. Erica texted Isaac about their activities and her phone began to blow up with texts and calls. Stiles took it from her and turned it off. He had to focus on staying calm, and Derek freaking out about him being with the police wasn't going to help their situation. She'd told him they were fine. Everything was fine.

 

They stepped up to the tables and the first was lowered. Gerard. He was most definitely cut in half. Barbarian style. Stiles swallowed down bile and Erica lightly punched his shoulder.

 

“Don't throw up. I'm a sympathetic puker. I will totally go Exorcist on you.”

 

“You're were right, Erica.”

 

“You want me to get you out of here?” She asked, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

 

“No, you were right. You suck at comforting people.”

 

“I did warn you.”

 

“That's the guy who fucked me up,” Stiles told him, “Gerard Argent, if that was his real name. I hadn't met him before that day.”

 

The next cloth was a man so mangled that Stiles didn't recognize him. He shrugged at the officer.

 

“I don't recognize his smell, and obviously there's not much else to identify.”

 

The next was Allison. Her throat was slit wide open with one, single swipe. Stiles could smell Scott on her and in the wound. He'd killed his mate. Gerard had made Scott into the monster he'd imagined him to be by abusing him and having his mate lie to him until he had literally nothing else to lose. Stiles was glad Erica was the one with him. She didn't know Scott's scent well enough to identify it.

 

“Allison Argent. It looks like a supernatural creature did it, but I guess it could have been a weapon. That's about all I can tell you. Maybe your coroner can find more.”

 

Last body. Stiles rubbed at his eyes and took in a deep breath of the pack scent lingering on his wrists as he did so. The linen was drawn back and Stiles let himself study the face of the man lying on the table. Or what was left of it. Stiles' heart lurched.

 

“It's not him. It's not Scott. Oh, thank fuck,” Stiles breathed.

 

“The dude. Helped. Torture. You,” Erica pointed out firmly.

 

“He was long term abused, Erica,” Stiles huffed, “Ask Isaac about what that's like. It fucks with you. He was my _brother,_ and even if I don't want him back in my life again I don't want him _dead.”_

 

“So who is this guy?” The man asked.

 

“That's the guy who low-key saved me,” Stiles replied, “He said he was a hunter, but didn't give me a name. Sorry. Maybe prints will give you something more. Do you guys know what killed him? I don't see anything on the face.”

 

“Repeated bullet wounds,” The man said, “They had some kind of plant trace, but it isn't back yet.”

 

“Wolfsbane,” Stiles acknowledged with a sniff, “It's used on werewolves and other shifters. They probably had it in their guns because they were prepared to fight us, but they pissed off their own people by breaking the code and the hunters came for the hunters. Thing about wolfsbane is, it doesn't care who it messes with. This guy would have been hallucinating after the first shot. He might have gone hog-wild after that. Could have slit Allison's throat with a weapon. Or maybe Scott bit him in self defense and he attacked her after. Thing is, the bite would have healed, but the bullet wounds wouldn't due to the wolfsbane. So it's hard to tell.”

 

“Does he...” The Detective hesitated, “I can't believe I'm asking this... does he smell like a werewolf?”

 

Stiles shrugged, “It's hard to tell. If he was turned it was right before his death and he's been touched and moved and... I'm sorry. I can't tell.”

 

The Detective led them out, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes slightly wide. Stiles was expecting the questions that came after. What's real? What isn't? Hours passed with him wondering and eventually Stiles started yawning intentionally until the man gave them a lift back to the store they'd been at and left them to themselves. Stiles' statement had been given. His phone number and Erica's given. Stiles' case, the one that accused him of murder years before, had long since been closed as unsolvable but with the information Stiles had given him he would be advising the current Sheriff of Beacon Hills to re-open it with an eye for the Supernatural. Stiles hadn't been a suspect for a long time, even though his flight had initially made them certain it was him. Eventually, it simply hadn't been possible for him to have been the criminal mastermind no matter how angry the then deputy had been at Stiles' dad for having an out of control kid.

 

Stiles got back to their tiny house around three in the morning to find his alpha red eyed and furious... right up until Stiles fell apart.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**E- Some cops stopped us at the hardware store. They wanted to talk to Stiles about that torture video. I'm freaking out!**

 

**D- RUN!**

 

**E- Der, we can't. This could get ugly. They know werewolves exist now! This is like everything you warned us about!**

 

**E- Stiles is just going with it. What do I do?**

 

**D- He's some kind of spastic genius. Follow his lead.**

 

**E- We're headed to the morgue to ID the bodies from where he was kidnapped.**

 

**D- The fuck you are.**

 

**D- Get him out of there.**

 

**D- He's going to FREAK OUT.**

 

**D- Answer me!!**

 

**D- OBEY YOUR ALPHA.**

 

**D- Stiles, I swear to god, I am going to put you in your place when you get back here. You think you run this? I'm the fucking alpha. Give Erica back her phone and come back and I'll consider not putting you over my knee and spanking you like the disobedient brat you are.**

 

**D- Do you have any idea how many packmates I've buried?**

 

**D- Let me know you're alive. It's been hours.**

 

**D- Call me. Now.**

 

**D- P**

 

**D- Stiles.**

 

**D- Erica.**

 

**D-Please**

 

**D- I've called the station twice. They say you're not a suspect.**

 

**D- I'm at the station. Where are you?**

 

 

Stiles returned at nearly three in the morning and Derek was ready to give him the punishment of a lifetime. He strongly recalled his mother taking a wayward packmate outside, turning into her wolf form, having the pack coral him, and tearing into him until he was a whimpering mess of blood. Alpha wounds took hours or even days to heal instead of minutes. It was the ultimate punishment for a werewolf to have their entire pack reprimand them, not just physically by causing them pain, but emotionally by herding them like prey.

 

Except when Stiles got out of the truck and Derek came stomping towards him his entire plan fell through. Stiles put out his arms like a child and began to _wail_. He didn't just sob or whimper, he began to _mourn_. The scent of misery, loss, and absolute devastation was burning Derek's nose until his own eyes watered. Stiles dropped to his knees and keened, wrapping his arms around himself when Derek didn't hold him immediately. He was even gekkering again. Derek had no idea what broke Stiles so completely, but punishment would have to wait. His mate needed him.

 

Derek came forward and knelt down, pulling Stiles into his arms and rocking him gently back and forth. He looked up at Erica angrily, letting his scowl speak for itself.

 

“He railroaded me!” She insisted, “Besides, you said to follow his lead! And there were police! What the hell was I supposed to do? Slash their throats?!”

 

Derek picked Stiles up and carried him inside, sitting down on their sofa and shifting him until Stiles was pressed with his face to his neck for optimum comfort. He let Stiles cry himself out. It took ages and Derek nearly fell asleep, but the stink of misery kept him up. Finally Stiles began to speak.

 

“I was cleared,” Stiles sobbed, “I was cleared almost a year after I ran and I never knew. It wasn't made public knowledge because people thought I'd died in the woods and the body was just never found because so many people died in those woods. Except I lived. I lived and my dad died in Eichen House alone, not knowing if I was alive or not. I never even tried to visit him because I just... I thought I was still a wanted man! I fucked everything up. Our relationship. His career. My friendships. My future. I gave it all up and I could have come back and spent a few more years with him and he wouldn't have died _alone_.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, not knowing what else to say. He held him tightly and waited. More was coming. The scent of relief wasn't there.

 

“And Scott he... he... I didn't even _look_ for him. He was alive that whole fucking time and I was off looking for the monsters who killed him, but I never had a confirmed death. He went through years of abuse and I knew what to look for! I knew that werewolves and hunters existed. I could have found him and gotten him help.”

 

“You found an _arm,”_ Derek pointed out.

 

“I should have _looked._ People live without arms all the time. I knew he was a werewolf. There was a chance he could have survived the attack. When he didn't come crawling back I just went for revenge instead, and it ended up costing my dad his job. Now I don't even know where he is. He had to kill his own mate to free himself and he's out there hurting and I'm just... running away.”

 

Derek's eyes found Isaac's across from him on the other couch. Isaac's eyes went stony and he nodded and slipped out of the house. Boyd followed after him without prompting and Erica gave them a careful look before shifting away from where she'd been hovering anxiously by the stove and sat opposite them.

 

“You can't fix the past,” Derek spoke softly, “But you have a future, Stiles.”

 

Erica nodded, “He's right. This is awful, it's all awful, but I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. We can stop running. You kept mourning that Derek's family _owns land_ in Beacon Hills. That if you weren't wanted for murder and if we weren't running from hunters that we wouldn't be homeless. Well, now we're not. We can go back. We can tear down the burnt out shell and rebuild. We can park our little house and start _living_. We're finally safe, Stiles.”

 

Stiles shifted a bit, peering at Erica through eyelashes decorated with tears, “We can go home.”

 

“We can go home,” She smiled softly, “Time to start making a den.”

 

 

** At one point I was going to have them meet up with a pack in the Yakima Indian Reservation and live there, but white ppl taking Native American land is so last week. No, really. It's still happening and it needs to STAHP. 


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles had no idea where Isaac and Boyd were, and whenever he asked his darling mate would just blank-face him. Derek's eyebrows and expression were his main way of communicating. The only time he got chatty was when he was planning something or discussing werewolf culture. He was a closet historian and Stiles loved that about him. His silence was Stiles' space to chatter. The problem was, they had always communicated even without words, but now Derek had shut down. Instead it was all about getting _back_ to Beacon Hills. A journey that had taken them two weeks with circuitous driving to lose the hunters, long stops for building and repairs, and recovery from injury following his abduction, was being narrowed down to one day. They were driving straight down to Beacon Hills Preserve to park their tiny car home in the front yard of the burned down Hale family seat. The drive was only 9 hours, but hauling a large structure would slow them down. At least now they didn't have to drive to six other towns in a night to avoid being tracked before heading to their destination.

 

Stiles' head was spinning and he was still in mourning. While surviving he'd never had the time to do more than weep for his lost life and father for a few minutes before falling asleep at night after working so hard all day to just have enough food and water to _live_. It had been working through his pain. Always. Now he had nothing to do except wait. Wait for Derek to get back from the DMV with his new license. Wait for them to hook up the trailer. Wait for them to fix a light that had gone out. Wait during the drive. Hours of driving. Hours of mourning. Stiles spent the time just purging his emotions while Erica avoided eye contact at all costs. She managed to do her nails three times before Stiles confiscated the stinky chemicals and threw them into the bathroom. She found a book to read instead.

 

Finally they swayed to a stop and Stiles heard Derek getting out of the car. They'd stopped several times in the last twelve hours, but this didn't feel like a pit stop. This felt final. Stiles stood up and stepped out of their home, taking in a deep breath of familiar scented air, looking across Hale property at the road that led to what was going to be _their home,_ and left his tears behind. His father had been dead for over a year now. Scott was in the wind. His pack was here and now, and they had land for Stiles to build into a home.

 

“Okay,” Stiles breathed, “First thing's first, let's call the electric, phone, and cable company. We're gonna need internet.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

Stiles had gone for years without electric let alone wifi, but his pack hadn't so Derek understood his point, but there were priorities. First they scavenged for bricks which Erica, so Stiles and he could make a level for their tiny home. They put the tiny house on the brickwork and left Stiles to his business of denmaking.

 

Derek took the truck and Erica into town to find a few supplies that Stiles gave him a list for as well as a few hundred things he thought they needed. The store closed before he finished, but he knew he could come back the next day so he simply loaded up what he needed and headed back home.

 

_Home!_

 

The first thing Derek noticed was that Stiles had found a sledge hammer in the old shed. The second was that he'd started fucking shit up. Stiles had started renovating the burnt out house himself, stripping out floorboards and making a pile of renovated wood for new construction. He had also framed out several spaces around them and Derek quickly recognized what he was doing and gave him a judgmental eyebrow quirk.

 

“What?” Stiles gestured, “I like tiny homes. Tiny homes are awesome. And then one _big_ central area for werewolf socializing. Game room cum dining area. Lots of cushions. Bean bag chairs. A big table or two. Ping pong and Foosball table. Big TV with a video game console. That's the room we hook up to electric and have internet in. Wifi, Derek. It's the future. The rest are on power cells and solar panels. Conservation in the tiny homes. Luxury in the big communal area.”

 

Derek gave it a considering frown, raising his eyebrows and nodding in approval. Stiles squealed and danced around in excitement when Derek gave him the go ahead. Something unwound in Derek at seeing his mate's relief and joy for the future. He pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. It was night time. They had a lot to set up, but Derek wanted quiet for a bit. He shooed Erica and Stiles into their home and sat himself down on the shorter couch so he could lean against one side and put his feet up on the part without a cushion- technically the first step to the stairs- with a sigh of relief. Stiles pulled his shoes off and tucked them away, smiling fondly at Derek.

 

“I'm gonna shower quick, then I'll make dinner. Will... Isaac and Boyd be joining us?”

 

Derek shrugged. He could feel them getting closer, but they were a while away. If they got transportation they might join them, but Derek had no idea what their actual circumstances were. Their phones were dead so there was no communication at the moment. He knew they were safe and well, and that was all that mattered.

 

“Are they okay?” Stiles pushed.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay. Right. Fine,” Stiles huffed, “Shower and dinner.”

 

Derek closed his eyes to rest a moment, listening to the shower turning off and on as Stiles conserved their small water supply. They would have to fetch more in the morning. There was plumbing to the old house that would be utilized for the new build- the communal area- so Derek thought a full proper shower and kitchen should be included. The houses could have private little kitchenettes and tiny non-plumbed baths, but he wanted there to be a solution for when someone needed a full on shower. Perhaps a mud room with an attached shower, bathroom, and a hot tub. A bit of luxury in their spartan living lifestyle.

 

Stiles exited the tiny bathroom with a sigh of relief, still slightly damp, and finished drying off in the larger space. He put on an apron, gave Derek's nipple a pinch in passing, and headed outside with his ass on full display. It did the trick. Derek's eyes narrowed in on that gorgeous bottom and he followed him outside to watch him cook.

 

Stiles was beautiful as he cooked on their little outdoor kitchenette. He'd finally stopped boiling water before use- a habit from his time in the forest- and served them ice cold lemonade instead of tea or hot chocolate in the middle of summer. Derek had spread out a blanket on the ground for a picnic and Stiles jumped on board eagerly. They were soon sitting down eating burgers and corn on the cob, leaning into each other's space and nuzzling lovingly. Erica particularly loved having her hair stroked like a cat, and Stiles had taken to calling her Cat Woman for that reason. She soon had her head in his lap, dozing lightly as they sat together with hand-made torches lighting their quiet space.

 

Bedtime was a lazy affair. They brushed one at a time. Stiles and Derek sucked each other off upstairs while Erica got ready for bed. They curled up together with Derek in the middle, and went to sleep holding each other close. It was hotter back in California than it had been in Washington, so they soon rolled away from each other to avoid sweating to death.

 

Morning brought them a surprise, but not necessarily the one that Derek had been expecting.

 


	31. Chapter 31

(AN: This is from Isaac's POV. I tried to put it as a stand alone story, but it completely ruined the continuity of the story by making the events that followed feel sudden and unrealistic. So. Here's some Scott/Isaac.)

 

Isaac was the best tracker of their group, so when Stiles wept over Scott and Derek looked up at him he knew exactly what his alpha wanted. Boyd followed along, probably for safety since he was the powerhouse of their pack. Isaac took off on legs, but stopped to get an uber. He had money to spend, after all. According to Derek there were millions in bearer bonds, somewhere around 117 million if Derek recalled correctly which he didn't seem concerned to bother searching his memory for. The man was a millionaire who lived in a house that had no plumbing or electric. The man was clearly nuts, but he also didn't hesitate to let them run off with whatever amount they wanted.

 

Isaac took the uber straight back to the scene of the abduction, or as close to it as he dared to get with a stranger in tow. He walked there with Boyd, scenting the air, and spiraled out as he searched passed the scent of cops for Scott's unfamiliar one. Stiles had returned with smells on him, and like the rest of the pack Isaac had memorized them so he would know who to fight or flee from if they showed up again before marking him soundly to make sure that the scents were gone. Now he knew that only one of those scents had survived; Scott's. All he had to do was find it and follow it.

 

It took hours, but eventually Isaac found a trail, but it wasn't the one he'd expected. The hunters had Scott. Isaac was now fairly certain that he was dead and that he and Boyd should go back empty handed, but instead of saying anything he continued on. He had to know. He had to have something to bring back to his alpha's mate.

 

The hunters lived on a Native American Reservation, the Yakama Indian Reservation just south of where he'd left Derek and Stiles since they had continued north after fleeing the Argents with Stiles. Isaac and Boyd stuck to the shadows around the town, traveling through farmland rather than using roads. When they found the scent they were searching for again they trailed it to a person's house. Scott wasn't there so they resumed their search once more. After a few hours it became clear they weren't going to find Scott easily.

 

That was when _they_ were found. They'd been hiding out in a barn loft when a man simply appeared at the window holding a gun on them. He was standing on the top of a truck parked below.

 

“Tell me there aren't werewolves sneaking into our barn,” He frowned at them.

 

“Um...” Isaac smiled hopefully, “We're students? We're studying your... culture? With an emphasis on non... interference?”

 

“Try less questioning tones,” Boyd intoned judgementally.

 

The man snorted and lowered his shot gun to peer at them, “What the hell are you two doing here?”

 

“We're looking for a packmate,” Isaac admitted, “He's... he's not a bad wolf.”

 

“We're not either,” Boyd added.

 

“He was at the Argent... uh... massacre?” Isaac tried.

 

“You should stop talking,” Boyd advised.

 

“You're looking for Scott? He said he had no pack,” The man replied, frowning at them.

 

“He's mistaken,” Boyd replied, “We're his pack, and it's time for him to come home.”

 

“Well, that's a good thing,” The man stepped back and gestured for them to follow, “Because he doesn't exactly fit in with ours.”

 

“Your pack?” Isaac asked.

 

With those words the scent of werewolf flooded his nose and Isaac sneezed in alarm and then gave Boyd a shocked look. Boyd's usual bland look had been replaced with one of stupor, a wholly unusual look on the brilliant young man's face.

 

“How...?” Isaac asked in confusion.

 

“How did we hide our scent from you?” The man laughed, “You're just pups, that's how. Come on. Your strange alpha is in our safe house.”

 

The safe house was more of a prison than a house, but Isaac wasn't about to pass judgment. They were clearly far more advanced and trained than he was. If they felt Scott needed to be chained up in a big room that looked like a school than he probably did. The problem was, how were they going to get him home?

 

“Hey, Scott,” Isaac spoke up as he moved into the room where the alpha sat on the floor by a cot amidst a pile of books and papers, “You don't know me, but I'm part of Stiles' pack.”

 

“Stiles?” Scott looked up, big puppy dog eyes full of hurt and longing and Isaac's breath left him.

 

 _Shit._ Isaac stared at him, filled with confusion and his own longing, _Shit, what is this?_

 

Boyd nudged Isaac who didn't respond, so he stepped forward.

 

“We've come to take you back to our pack,” Boyd stated, “Do you... have anything to pack?”

 

Scott shook his head, eyes still locked with Scott's.

 

“He has access to a bathroom, but he hasn't bathed,” The stranger stated, “He wears the blood of his mate like shame.”

 

Isaac nodded and stepped forward, holding a hand out for Scott. Scott hesitated a moment and then reached up and accepted his grip. Isaac helped him rise and walked him slowly towards the bathroom. Something was there. Something alive in Isaac that fluttered and whined when he saw Scott. He didn't know what it was, but he needed to protect it.

 

Isaac stripped Scott after the leader released him from the shackles and helped him into the shower. He hesitated only a moment and then removed his own and climbed in with him. Isaac had never been uncomfortable with touch as long as it wasn't sexual, so once he got a nod from Scott he began to wash him. The water ran reddish brown and Scott sobbed brokenly, head falling against Isaac's shoulder.

 

“She's gone. She's gone. I killed her. She's _gone_ ,” He sobbed.

 

“I know,” Isaac ran his hands along his shoulders, “I know, baby, I'm so sorry. You did what you had to do. She was hurting your _brother_. She was hurting _you_.”

 

“She was my _m-mate_ ,” Scott wailed.

 

“Shh,” Isaac soothed, not only to comfort him but because it was loud and echoing in the bathroom, “It's okay. It's going to hurt for a while, but you'll heal. We know loss. We all do. We'll help you heal. You _will_ heal.”

 

They rented a car to drive back, deciding privacy was best. It was a 9 hour drive back to the Hale property, but they stopped for a meal and slept in a motel before heading back. Scott picked at his food until Isaac started spooning it into his mouth. He looked broken, but as he leaned into Isaac's space the young wolf was sure that there was some hope left in him. That night the three of them slept on one of the two beds in the room, Isaac held tight in Scott's grip as he lay awake the entire night.

 

_What is this?_

 


	32. Chapter 32

It was more expensive to buy sheds and renovate them, but it was also faster and they came with floors and roof already on. Derek bought four sheds to make them more than enough tiny homes for their current pack and any new who might join them. They were situated well enough apart that they would all have privacy, making the building that would go up soon the central focus. Two were tall enough for lofts, while the other two were single stories; one was larger than their first build while the other was smaller. They'd utilized bricks from the burnt out house to build quick foundations, but Derek wanted poured concrete so it had become a debate on speed vs permanence for homes generally meant to be removable. Derek and Erica were building balconies around them while Stiles was designing the interiors, first in the dirt and then on paper when he was sure of his measurements and plans.

 

A company was coming out to install solar panels on tall poles for the tiny houses. The local retailers were in love with Derek and his determination to buy everything they had on hand en mass. The fact he'd soon be employing the local workers to build a central building was the talk of the town. Sadly they had only had four sheds in stock, so he would have to make due with their sizes and shapes as well as the limited number. In actuality he wanted a full little commune of tiny homes, and four didn't quite cut it. Isaac, Boyd, and Scott arrived just as Derek was accepting rush delivery of the four sheds and was planning a trip to pick up insulation and wiring.

 

Scott staggered out of the rental and looked around himself as if he didn't know where he was, but the second he saw Stiles he put his arms out and whimpered miserably. Stiles had been using his outdoor cook space as a table to draw up rudimentary blueprints, but once he saw Scott he dropped his pencil and ran towards him with a shout of joy. He pulled Scott into his embrace, holding him tightly until the alpha slowly began to relax. Derek walked over to them slowly and ran his hand through Scott's hair to scent him. There was no doubt that he would be pack. There was no where else for him to go.

 

“I need to call his mom,” Stiles told Derek, “I hope she still has the same number.”

 

Stiles dragged Scott over to where their picnic blanket was spread out once more and tugged him down. Scott's head lay in Stiles' lap while he petted him gently. Isaac and Boyd joined them, Isaac curling around Scott while Boyd collapsed onto his back with a heavy sigh. Stiles was soon the only one awake, softly cooing to his packmates while Derek fetched him a charged phone and nicked the phones off of Isaac and Boyd to charge them.

 

“You're safe now,” Stiles cooed, “It's going to be okay. You're home. No more running.”

 

Stiles called Melissa, breath bated as the phone rang. When she didn't answer he called the hospital. He'd have to interrupt her. It was too important that she know her son was alive and well. Derek listened in shamelessly, because chances were this woman was about to become secondary pack if not primary.

 

“Mrs. McCall please... Melissa? Don't hang up,” Stiles pleaded, “Scott's alive.”

 

The woman on the other end made a broken sound, “What? That's not... This isn't funny, Stiles.”

 

“It's not a prank,” Stiles insisted, “I know you're... you're mad at me for being the one to take him into those woods. I get that you blame me. I deserve that.”

 

“Stiles, _where is my son?!”_

 

“Here. He's here, in Beacon Hills. You can hold it against me as long as you want, but he _is alive._ He's hurting and he needs you. Like, emotionally hurting. Not physically. He's physically fine. Mostly. He's kinda tired at the moment and I don't think I can even wake him up to talk to you.”

 

“Where has he _been?”_ She sobbed on the other end, “Where is he now? Where are you?”

 

“In the hands of a crazy abusive lady who manipulated him like crazy, Beacon Hills Preserve by the old Hale House, and repeat. He just got back into town. He needs like, mad therapy, but he's going to be okay. You both are.”

 

Melissa was sobbing brokenly, barely able to explain to her boss that she needed to leave, and she forgot to say goodbye before hanging up halfway through an explanation that her son had been found _alive_. Stiles handed the phone back to Derek with a slow breath out.

 

“She's going to have questions. Especially about his arm being, you know, attached.”

  
“We could claim that there was an error in the blood testing?”

 

“She identified it,” Stiles shook his head, lifting Scott's left arm and showing off a birth mark there, “Mole shaped like Nevada.”

 

“That's weird,” Derek decided of the sharp-edged birth mark.

 

“That's what you find weird?” Stiles laughed.

 

It was a dangerously short period of time before Melissa arrived, indicating she'd driven there at shocking speeds. She left her car door open when she staggered out of it, running towards their little pack pile while screaming Scott's name. Boyd and Isaac scattered in alarm, coming awake and breathing hard as they jumped up and then got out of her way fast. She was a terrifying sight to behold, a broken mama bear who would knock out werewolves if they got between her and her cub. Scott blinked blearily as she practically threw herself over him. She held him tightly, sobbing as she felt for a pulse, instinctively reassuring herself that he was really alive. When she had done this she put her arm around Stiles, who was trying to slide out from under the two to get away, and held them both tightly in her arms.

 

“Scott, baby, where have you _been?_ It's okay, honey, shhh, mama's here,” She choked out. Stiles gave Derek a helpless look and shrugged before nuzzling into the mother figure he'd lost when Scott had died.

 

Derek blinked back tears, his heart aching at the sight. He wanted his mother. It didn't matter he was nearly thirty years old. He still _wanted his mother_. It made his skin itch and he turned away from the scene to move away into the woods. Derek stripped quickly and let the fur curl around him in comfort. Footsteps followed him as he trotted into the woods, letting the less vibrant emotions of a wolf calm him.

 

“Hey? Sourwolf,” Erica called, hurrying after him, “Don't go furry too long, okay? We need you.”

 

Derek barked back at her before taking off into the woods for a few hours.

 


	33. Chapter 33

Scott had been virtually silent for the week that followed his return. He mainly sat curled into a packmate's side, going from one to the other whenever one wasn't busy. If someone sat down to eat during a break from working on their houses, he would sidle up and press against them. He spent his nights curled against Isaac or Stiles on the blankets they'd set up under a mesh picnic gazebo. The entire pack was sleeping outside due to the sudden heat of summer, and Derek was contemplating altering the designs of the large group building to include a big screened in porch that could double as summer sleeping space. It would drastically cut down on the cost of cooling down their little homes, and reminded him of lazy summer nights with his own family with hammocks strung between rails on their screened in porch and Uncle Peter telling scary stories.

 

In addition to the new builds they had going on, Derek planned to upgrade the tiny house they'd originally built someday, but it was limited based on it's existence on a wheeled platform. If it became too heavy it wouldn't be able to be moved and might even damage the frame. He knew he could cut corners by keeping the kitchenette without cabinet doors and continuing to use gravity to move water, but he planned on installing a bit of electricity at the very least and putting in a proper ventilation system. All tiny houses required some sort of heat exchange system, and so far the only option in the original build was the windows. That wouldn't cut it by winter, and he still wanted this one house mobile because he wanted to have a mobile territory at all times. It was his inner Kate still threatening to come after him from the grave.

 

The build for their new houses was delayed by a few days as they poured concrete for slabs and allowed it to set. Derek chose to do this by hand as getting someone out to pour it with a truck was going to be a mess due to the road leading to their home containing very little access. As it was the delivery of the sheds had nearly been a disaster and caused damage to the grounds he'd have to repair. He'd then chosen to move the houses onto the slabs via werewolf strength rather than call someone back out with a truck.

 

All their little houses would run on solar panels and collect rain water, but the rainy season in California wasn't enough to provide them with water year round. For that reason a pump and large basin sink would be installed in the mud room of the big central building so people could easily walk over, fill a basin, and walk back to their home. That building would also contain their laundry, an extra set of small showers, a hot tub for luxury, and a dishwasher for when larger group meals were held at what was being dubbed The Pack Center. They placed the houses along the road that led would lead The Pack Center with their original tiny house furthest from the Hale House debris. It got a brass #1 on the door, and they began situating the rest as if it were a tiny street with the soon-to-be Pack Center in the cul de sac. The road was dirt up to that point and would likely stay that way, but they still organized it nicely with ample space between each tiny home. Each was up against the forest line, providing it with shade and extra 'property'. Stiles already had plans to put a big metal fence around a portion of the woods behind theirs and have goats for both milk and because he liked their screams. Derek had thoughts on that but kept them to himself.

 

The second tiny house, #2 by address, with a loft was a complete flip on their first, in both layout and the fact it had proper plumbing and amenities. The door was on the long side of the building to one side, with the kitchen counter and appliances across from it and a table to the left of the door with four small folding stools that could tuck out of the way. The tilted ladder was behind the table, with shelves behind it for small storage. In the hall was a bathroom to the right and closet space to the left. The back room was the living room, which converted to a master bedroom via a futon seated on the right wall. Opposite the futon was a desk chair on wheels and built in desk and entertainment center. The fun part of this particular room was the double set of doors on the far wall that would open out onto a deck. Chairs and a folding table hung from the inside of the doors so they could be set up after opening them. Stiles put up Velcro and attached mosquito netting to it so the majority of the room could be opened up to a fresh breeze at night. An extra window was installed behind the futon in the otherwise dark room. The second story loft contained enough space for a queen sized bed or two twin beds, a side table, and perhaps a bean bag chair. A second, smaller storage loft was over the kitchen. It had windows around the bedroom loft but only one in the kitchen. They'd added a screen door to the main entrance to allow for more ventilation and natural light. It was heated with a very small furnace hung on the wall. Since it didn't double as a stove the kitchen contained a two burner stove top, as well as a small fridge and a deep sink.

 

The third lofted house, #3 and situated next to #1, mirrored the second, but by the time they started work on it they had learned from the issues presented in the second with lighting in the living room. Instead of keeping the big swinging doors and installing a window the in the living room, they replaced the shed doors with french doors and put the heat exchange on the wall above the futon. It was quite a bit more private than the second, but would probably be harder to heat during winter.

 

The first single story house, or #4 and across from 3, was the largest shed they had purchased, so it had a bedroom on each side. The larger had a queen sized bed to the right and a curtained off closet to the left. It was just big enough for each so one would crawl into the bed to enter the room. This particular pre-fab building was meant to be a garage or shed for large equipment, so instead of a set of double doors it had a garage door which was located on the far wall of the master bedroom. Derek and Boyd ripped it out and built a frame to house a big bay window instead, complete with a small bit of seating built in to make a reading nook. A window over the bed provided fresh air with the exchange above it. The smaller bedroom was half the size of the other as it shared the space with the bathroom. One had to walk through the bathroom to get to the second bedroom, which contained a set of a bunk beds built into the far wall. Only a small amount of space remained, so a curtain rod spanned from one wall to the other to provide closet space which would hang down in front of the bunk beds if overly full. They had to install windows in the bedroom with the bunks, but with such a small space to work with they opted to do two tiny windows in each bunk that slid open sideways instead of vertical ones. The kitchen was installed straight across from the front doors in the middle area and had a slightly larger fridge than the others. To the left of the front door was a built-in, padded, L-shaped seating nook with storage in the benches. The table was made of crates with a flat top, with the crates open to the larger part of the room to be used to store books, DVD players, or game consoles. The television hung on the wall to the left of the window over the kitchen sink. Another window was on the wall behind the seating nook. It had a tall ceiling above and the doors were all barn door sliding doors with the exception of the main entrance.

 

The second single story house, #5 by location, was also the smallest in square footage, so it became a studio. Despite being the furthest from the road and listed as #5, it was the first they began working on since it required so very little modification. They built an enclosed area into the far right hand corner to become the bathroom, which contained only a wet bathroom without a sink. A wet bathroom meant that the shower and toilet were together, so it was basically a shower stall with a toilet beneath the shower's seat and toilet paper hidden away in a little cubby with a door. Boyd had the brilliant idea of using the setup for a boat house to complete this process and drove to the seaside to purchase it and bring it back. They had to modify it to be a composting toilet, but it turned out to be an easy fix. The sink in the kitchen, directly to the left of the bathroom, would serve as the hand washing sink after using the bathroom. To the left of the sink were two under and two above cabinets for storage, and on the counter top sat a drying rack. To the left of the dish area was a propane camp stove top, and beneath that a mini fridge connected to the solar system. In the area to the far left the counter top continued without cabinets beneath to create bar stool seating. Across from the bar seating was the living space. It was enough for a recliner, perhaps a small table, and they put a swiveling mount for a television on the wall to the left. The bed would have to go across from the bathroom, and while a queen _could_ fit, it would take up more space than the occupant would likely appreciate. Derek opted to leave the whole thing unfurnished so the owner could decide what they wanted. It did have plenty of storage in the rafters above, and since it was such a small building Derek opted to build it on wheels as he had their very first tiny home, but placed it on the slab so it had a permanent place with part of the slab as a patio. It also had a proper covered porch, which Erica couldn't resist buying a single-person porch swing for.

 

Derek had assumed this smallest home would be Isaac's if he ever decided to live away from the comfort of his alpha, but the second it was completed both Isaac _and_ Scott moved in. Derek was glad he hadn't bothered to furnish it as instead of using seating they put in two camp cots, a sea trunk for storage, installed some shelving, and called it a day. They had moved in so fast that no one even noticed until bed time that night when they opted not to join the group, instead opening the door and windows.

 

No one had any idea what Scott and Isaac were up to other than that they'd become a silent duo, but once Scott moved into his own space with Isaac a transformation occurred. He was suddenly talking again, eagerly seeking out the company of others in a social rather than dependent way. His mother, who had tried and failed to get him to move back home, was both relieved and hurt. He hadn't yet given her a reason for not calling for the years she'd thought him dead and gone, and his first therapy appointment had ended with Scott storming out. They were searching for another therapist, and Stiles wisely told the pack not to expect the sudden improvement to last.

 

Boyd meanwhile took the first move in as his chance to make his move. He took Erica for a walk and they came back reeking of sex. Derek immediately took them aside to explain what mating was, that it was quite literally till-death-do-you-part if they had sex with a popped knot during a full moon, and that they should think it through _very carefully_ before continuing their relationship. Stiles intervened to tell them not to listen to Derek, they were meant for each other, and that knots were fleshy wedding rings that came with twenty minute long orgasm access. They moved into the largest house that day after asking if Derek or Stiles minded. They wanted to start a family right away and it had the most family space and no ladders to bother with. Erica hadn't even had the choice to have a sexual partner safely or comfortably until after the bite, and she knew that her best friend was forever even without a knot having shown up yet. She wasn't wasting time. Stiles was planning the baby shower, because he lived to embrace his sexuality now that he had full access to all stereotypical flashiness.

 

Derek had helped them move their things and introduced them to a new tradition. At the door to their home, in front of the rest of the gathered pack including Melissa, he made an awkward but heartfelt little speech.

 

“May you build up your family as an alpha builds a pack; with structure, a safe den, and unconditional love,” He spoke, voice cracking a bit before he pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. Stiles shed a heartfelt tear.

 

Erica threw her arms around Derek, hugging him tightly as she let out a breathy little sob of joy. Boyd touched his alpha's shoulder gently and smiled so broadly that Stiles feared his mouth would hurt. They went inside to unpack and scent mark their home, and Derek and Stiles returned to their little one _alone_ for the first time in ages.

 

“It's tradition for the denmaker of a pack this small to bake them their first dessert,” Derek told Stiles.

 

Stiles mused for a moment, staring at his paltry kitchen, “I could do soda bread. It's easy and I have all the ingredients handy except one. I could pick that up tomorrow. Or does it have to be tonight? Except I don't have an oven. Shit. Maybe a pudding? A flan. I could totally do a fried dessert!”

 

Derek stood up to press a kiss to Stiles' temple, “It's about symbolism, not how much you can stuff their cabinets with. Do whatever you want.”

 

“I just wish I had a proper oven,” Stiles breathed, and then paused in shock.

 

He wanted a proper oven. He wanted _convenience_. He'd gotten so used to going without that it hadn't even occurred to him that one of those nicer, modern tiny houses... they could be _his._ He'd been attached to his first tiny home, and was excited when Derek started talking about improving it after the other tiny homes were complete, but he _had_ found himself drawn more and more to the loft with the big doors that opened out of the living/bedroom on the first floor. Now that the pack were moving into separate houses there was no need for a big bedroom that took up an entire second story. Derek wanted cubs though, so that was an option in the two story initial home they'd made. They could build a dividing wall for privacy or co-sleep until the cubs were older. He could just wait until Derek made it more convenient, even if it would never be as fancy as the others were due to the frame's limited weight strength. Or...

 

Or he could move into a new home with modern appliances that was actually kind of amazing and feel like a _human_ again. Well. Not a human, but a werewolf who hadn't been on the lamb for the last several years. It was around his sixth time walking through the still unoccupied newer house that Derek simply walked in and dumped their clothes on the futon.

 

“Put those in the closet, would you?” Derek grunted.

 

“But...” Stiles followed him back out, “Wait! We can't just let #1 be abandoned! It's not done! We have to finish it, okay? It could be a guest house, or a camper for vacations, or, hell, maybe someone else will want it some day. We-”

 

“Just put the clothes away,” Derek laughed, heading back to #1, “I'll get the kitchen utensils.”

 

Stiles turned around to face his kitchen with it's brushed chrome finish and a fridge that could actually _keep food cold without ice_. He still didn't have an oven, only the largest had that, but he could pick up a toaster oven and there would be a proper oven in the Pack Center. What this home meant to him wasn't just about convenience. It was about _home_. He'd loved the project of building #1, but #2 wasn't a project or an escape vehicle, it was a _home_. It was a place that he knew he could come back to every single day. He could open up the big doors in the bedroom/living room and read a book and let the breeze waft over him and feel content. He could sleep in it at night in the winter, all wrapped up in blankets with his mate and perhaps a cub or two, like a secure cave, and feel like he had done _right_ for once in his life instead of living in guilty misery for a crime he never committed.

 

Stiles packed their sparse wardrobe away in the hall closet and started unpacking the bedding they'd stored there for the futon and making a bed for the first time in years. Derek returned and started putting their food in the fridge and the remaining ice from their cooler into the freezer. Stiles came out and began hanging pots on hooks and putting the plates into the cabinets. He ran his hand over the sink faucet and let out a tiny squeal of excitement.

 

“We have a home!” Stiles shrieked, and jumped into Derek's arms.

 

Derek laughed as he caught his mate, lifting him up and spinning him around with his hands squeezing his ass.

 

“We already had a home. You are our home. Our denmaker.”

 

“I mean a home with a couch and a bed and a sink and a stove top and _this is our home,”_ Stiles insisted, “Feed me your people-are-homes line, I still want a floor and a roof I didn't weave together myself!”

 

“Well, your weaving skills are pretty bad...”

 

“Shut your whore mouth!” Stiles cackled, slapping at him playfully.

 

“I love you, my mate,” Derek smiled, “May you build up our family as an alpha builds a pack; with structure, a safe den, and unconditional love.”

 

“I love _you,_ my alpha,” Stiles purred, and pressed their lips together for a long, deep kiss.

 

Derek carried Stiles down the narrow hall to the futon bed and dropped him down into it. He pounced on Stiles with a hungry growl, causing him to shriek and laugh. For a moment it was all play fighting and growling, biting and scratching at each other lightly just to tease. Stiles and Derek thrived on sarcasm and snark, and they made love the same way. Their rough quickly turned to tumble as Derek pinned him to the bed and Stiles began to grind their hips together.

 

As much as he'd loved topping, Stiles had to admit that there was a special kind of bliss of surrendering his body to Derek's powerful demands. Derek took his time fucking him, holding his legs up to take him deep while Stiles lay back and moaned continuously. Every inch of Derek's thick shaft lit up the nerves in Stiles' body. People talked about hitting the prostate like it was the only hot spot in a man's ass, and that it needed to be pounded rather than rubbed sinfully, but there was so much more. The rim was sensitive to the wet heat of the tongue or lubed fingers, and teasing there made his body and mind flutter and open up. The inside was a friction zone, and the flared head of Derek's cock made him gasp and shudder in heady bliss as each thrust burned through him. Only _then_ came his p-spot, and by now Derek knew it so well he only had to get Stiles' legs at the right height to ravage him. Shocks of electric pleasure made Stiles grunt and growl, eyes rolling in his head as the back of his eyelids lit up with each bump to the insatiable organ inside his body.

 

His mate was rock hard as he pressed into Stiles' body, pinning him in place with what Stiles called his 'angry fuck face'. Derek wasn't actually angry, he just had resting rage face. It went away when he got off, and Derek was fucking into Stiles with the goal of purging himself of all emotion and energy. When he came it was with a shuddering cry, his body rigid above him, mouth slack, cock pulsing as he spilled inside of Stiles' clenching passage.

 

“Oh, fuck, yeah, give me all that,” Stiles moaned, taking himself quickly in hand. He loved to come on the tail of Derek's climax as it often drove him into another. A few quick strokes gave him what he needed and he was painting his stomach in hot ropes of come.

 

“Fuck!” Derek barked out, fucking him through the clench of his orgasm and then stilling as he climaxed again. Judging by his gasps it was a particularly satisfying orgasm as well.

 

Stiles was still working his length, but to his surprise Derek shoved his hand aside and slid free of his body. Stiles made an enthusiastic sound as Derek slid down his body and swallowed him down, sucking him off as if it were a personal mission. Stiles lay boneless on the bed, groaning as Derek slurped loudly while bobbing his head fast.

 

“Derek,” Stiles whined, shifting up a bit and wrapping his legs around Derek's body, “I need... I need...”

 

Derek guessed his unspoken words and two fingers slid into his sloppy hole. Stiles grunted as Derek found his prostate and then began working him with quick curls of his fingers. Stiles' legs were shaking as he lay slack jawed on the bed, hovering on the edge of something amazing. Derek growled and the vibration threw him over the precipice. Stiles came with a ragged cry and Derek swallowed his leavings eagerly. Stiles ended up laying there, lost in pleasure, while Derek collapsed next to him, panting for breath. Derek reached up and pulled the handle to one of the large double doors and pushed it open. Blessed air hit them and Stiles sighed in relief of more than one kind. He was glad that door opened out onto the woods, so they could keep it open most of the time without fear of traumatizing someone. Stiles wanted that gate up.

 

Stiles pushed himself to sit up, opening the other door while Derek lay boneless and exhausted in the bed. He rolled down the mosquito netting pinned above and secured it to it's Velcro frame. Stiles gave Derek's cheek a gentle pat of approval at a job _very_ well done, and stepped down from the full sized futon and walked to their bathroom. This one was far more spacious than the one in his original tiny home. It was also _tiled_ in a soft green all through the bathroom with dark green tiles around the bottom to give it some contrast. It was gorgeous and cool on his bare feet as he stepped over the lip into the shower portion of the tiled room. He closed the thin curtain, pulled down the shower head, and sprayed his ravaged ass with delightfully cool water. The water tank on the side of the building was room temperature as the water heater hadn't been hooked up yet. Priorities were on getting them move in ready, not perfect. Stiles remembered halfway through washing up that they had _electricity_ and he could flip a switch and see in the bathroom! Stiles chuckled a bit and moved on, simply because he didn't really need to see to wash his ass after years of living in the dark after sunset.

 

Stiles did walk into the kitchen, turn on the light, and pull a hardboiled egg out of the fridge to eat it _just to do it._ Stiles grinned around himself, excited about his little home. He sat bare ass on the stool and cracked his egg onto a small plastic plate. He remembered they now had _table salt_ and cackled as he sprinkled it on top. Chicken eggs tasted about a hundred times better than random bird eggs or snake eggs. If he had to pick he liked snake eggs better than random bird eggs, but they were harder to rip open and he always felt like shit when he found a formed bird or reptile inside. It was a balancing act finding them _exactly_ when they'd been laid, so he often only had eggs a couple times a year. Now he could have them whenever he wanted.

 

Stiles returned to the bathroom to find Derek was washing up, so he waited. The bathroom wasn't _that_ big. Derek exited, giving Stiles' ass a pinch, and headed for the bed again. Stiles brushed his teeth and joined him, falling into the bed with a moan of relief. The big open doors, secured to avoid blowing in the wind, made the room feel like it was still outside. Stiles was home in the wilderness _and_ back in civilization.

 

“This is perfect,” Stiles breathed.

 

“Mm,” Derek agreed, pressing a kiss to his temple, “Goodnight, my little fox.”

 

“Night, Sourwolf.”

 


	34. Chapter 34

Another Scisaac chapter. You can skip it if you need to.

 

Scott sauntered up to where Isaac was bouncing slightly as he pan fried some fish Scott had caught for them. The smell was gorgeous, but he'd opened all the doors and windows because it was hot as hell and he didn't really want that scent lingering in their tiny little home. Isaac was in boxers and an apron to avoid splatter. He was humming to himself while music played out of his phone. He liked musicals, and this one was a bit dark but also catchy.

 

Scott hesitated for a moment, but Isaac had been very receptive to his touch so far so he wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. Isaac chuckled lightly.

 

“It's almost done.”

 

“It smells amazing.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So do you,” Scott tried gently.

 

“Yeah...” Isaac sounded less enthused this time.

 

“It's okay,” Scott insisted, hand moving across Isaac's abdomen beneath the apron, “I can wait until after dinner.”

 

Isaac let out a slow breath, steadying the rapid beat of his heart. Scott had spent all his time with humans. He couldn't read the scent coming off of Isaac, so he didn't know that his touch brought only anxiety and disappointment. Isaac had found himself drawn to Scott in a way that didn't seem to be related to his alpha status. He wanted to be near him constantly, thought about him when he was apart, and sought out his scent when they were in a group. He felt Scott's pain from his past, understanding the horror of being used and abused. He wanted to comfort and warm him, but when they had gone from clingy friends to house mates Scott had made some... assumptions.

 

Isaac placed the food on the plate beside the fresh vegetables Scott had cut for them. A bowl of fruit sat central for dessert. Scott beamed at him and little butterflies fluttered around his stomach and left him laughing shakily at the approval. It was so _rare_ in his life. Usually approval for Isaac came in the form of no beatings or a pile of sweaty cash from a john.

  
“Stiles is looking at one of the other houses,” Isaac mentioned, “Looks like he's picking a family one. What's up with that, huh?”

 

“He's never wanted kids,” Scott frowned, “I hope that Derek's not making him do something he doesn't want to do. Not everyone's made to have kids.”

 

“Yeah... not a good idea to make someone do something they don't want to,” Isaac stated pointedly.

 

“Definitely not,” Scott replied, taking another bite and talking through his mouthful, “This is amazing, Isaac.”

 

Isaac's heart hurt with how much he both wanted and feared this.

 

“Thanks,” Isaac replied, “My mom taught me to cook.”

 

Scott knew his history so he only nodded, hand wrapping around Isaac's briefly in support. Isaac melted a bit and once again considered his position. He could have sex with Scott, as he was clearly expecting to happen that night now that they were moved in together, but he disliked sex. It didn't devastate him, but he didn't _enjoy it._ It might be different with Scott, but Isaac didn't really think so. He was asexual. It just wasn't his _thing._ He'd never wanted it before he'd become a sex worker, and he sure as hell didn't want it now that he'd been forced to go ass up for the sake of survival for years.

 

The problem was that Isaac had never been in _love_ before. He'd just assumed that being asexual meant being alone. He'd never hoped to be wrong so much in his life. Now he was studying Scott as he ate and knowing that tonight was a make or break situation. Scott would either move out when he realized that Isaac wasn't up for literal grabs or he'd be the amazing werewolf who his instincts were saying he was and just... hold him through the night. Love him. Laugh with him. Blow out their solar electric storage on video games and not care that they had no lighting so long as they could store it up for the next day and the joy of Xbox.

 

Dinner finished and the games began. They laughed and threw popcorn at each other. Scott kicked Isaac's ass twice, but Isaac destroyed him three times and danced across the wood floor. Scott stood up and grabbed his hand, laughing and dancing with him despite his own defeat. He pulled Isaac in and spun him, hand on hip, and the two of them pulled in close, noses touching and breath heavy.

 

It was now or never.

 

Scott leaned in for a kiss and Isaac turned his head. It landed on his cheek. It felt _perfect._ Like homemade cookies, still warm from the oven, with a glass of cold milk. He wanted to melt into Scott's arms, but when he turned his head Scott pulled back, leaving Isaac as cold as that milk.

 

“Isaac?” Scott asked, looking at him tearfully. He looked betrayed. Wounded. Isaac had put that expression there. “I thought... I was so sure...”

 

“You were right, just...” Isaac gestured at himself helplessly, “I _can't_. I mean, I can, but I don't want to.”

 

“Don't want to what?” Scott asked, stepping back further and wringing his hands.

 

“Have sex,” Isaac confessed, relief and worry making him feel sick. The butterflies had turned on him, the fickle beings.

 

“What?” Scott laughed weakly, “Well, we don't have to do that!”

 

“Oh,” Isaac sagged in relief.

 

“We've literally just gotten together,” Scott smiled warmly, “It's been, what, two weeks? This can go as slow or as fast as you want it to.”

 

He held his hand out to Isaac, and he wanted to fall into his arms again, but he knew there was still a disconnect.

 

“I mean ever, Scott,” Isaac replied miserably, “I hate sex. I just... I love you, but I never want to do that ever again.”

 

“You're hurting,” Scott replied, eyes full of love and understanding, “We'll get you help. A therapist. You can see mine with me!”

 

Isaac shook his head, “There's nothing _wrong_ with me, Scott. I was like this before I had to whore myself out. I only like to, like, touch _myself,_ and that barely ever happens. I don't like the idea of having sex with someone. I don't like _having_ sex with someone. I don't like _sex._ I'm _asexual_. I'm sorry. I've been trying to tell you. I've been trying to find a way, but... it's just so awkward.”

 

“So, it's like... a sexuality?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh,” Scott sat down on his cot and stared at his hand for a moment, “Is it... does it mean you don't love me, love me?”

 

“No, I do love you, love you,” Isaac laughed lightly at his phrasing, “Very much.”

 

“It's just that sex is off the table,” Scott considered, “What about cuddling?”

 

“I love to cuddle, you know that.”

 

“And we're living together still? Or do you want me to leave?” Scott asked, big puppy-dog eyes on display.

 

“I never want you to leave,” Isaac replied, heart aching at the sight.

 

“So we're platonic mates,” Scott replied softly.

 

“If that's what you want. It... it's what I want. So, so much, Scott.”

 

“The full moon is tomorrow night,” Scott stood up, “Mates usually confirm with... with sex.”

 

Isaac looked down and shook his head.

 

“What if... what if I just... can I touch myself around you? Or do you not want to be around that?”

 

Isaac considered that idea for a moment, “I've never done something like that with someone. We could try?”

 

“If I pop a knot it's official.”

 

“Boyd and Erica are official already,” Isaac gestured in the direction of their home, “It's just how you know it's chemical, not how you know you love each other. Wolves get married without ever knotting all the time. I mean, what about lesbians? They can't be mates?”

 

Scott considered his words for a moment, “I chose a woman who... who hated part of me. She hated part of me, but I loved her so- god- so much. I popped a knot with her at full moons. I didn't... I didn't tell Stiles or Derek that. It was... she was my _mate._ And they knew it just by smell. Maybe that's how they know Boyd and Erica are mates. That it has to do with how you smell together.”

 

“They do smell right together,” Isaac agreed.

 

“So if... if _you_ hate part of me... Isaac, I don't want to be Allison to you.”

 

“I don't hate part of you!” Isaac insisted, “This has nothing to _do_ with you. That's like thinking... thinking my eye color is your fault. Like if you and Allison had the same color eyes than you'd be a problem for me. It's just not how it works. I don't hate your dick, I just don't want to touch it. I don't wanna touch your eyeball either.”

 

Scott barked out a laugh, “Good, because that would hurt.”

 

“So... can we do this?” Isaac asked, whimpered really.

 

“Yeah,” Scott replied, “Please?”

 

Isaac smiled tenderly at Scott, “Absolutely.”

 


	35. Chapter 35

“I'm on Boyd,” Derek stated, “Erica and Isaac. Scott and Stiles. Keep each other grounded. Help those who haven't found something to focus on. Bring the human forward, but don't repress the wolf. Remember. We're a unit, not two individuals at war. Alpha, beta, omega. Mother, father, child. Mates, cubs, pack.”

 

“Red, white, blue,” Stiles quipped, “A,B,C.”

 

Derek glared at him, “This is serious, Stiles. We're about to loose a pack of wolves on this town. You remember what happened last time one lost control?”

 

Stiles glanced at Scott and then looked quickly away, “I'm not going to let that happen again.”

 

“We're far from people, right?” Scott asked, “I don't want to hurt anyone.”

 

Isaac gave Scott's hand a gentle squeeze, “It will be fine. Stiles is your best friend. He can center you.”

 

“Yeah, we'll be totally zen,” Stiles assured him, “If you lose control I'll stop you, dude. I got this.”

 

“You're a fox,” Scott gestured to himself, “I'm a freaking alpha werewolf. Why isn't Derek with me? Or Isaac?!”

 

“Having another alpha will be aggravating to you, not helpful,” Derek replied, “Stiles is your brother, Scott. He'll be able to help. You and Isaac are new to this... whatever the hell you two are doing. You need a proper connection. And since I need to be on Boyd due to his size I need Isaac on Erica since _they_ have a connection and she's powerful as hell.”

 

“Isaac and I _are_ _together_ ,” Scott insisted, “We have a stronger connection that Stiles and I do now. Besides, he's probably my anchor!”

 

“You won't always have your anchor with you,” Derek reminded firmly, “This is about finding it without holding it. You were supposed to be practicing that. Have you?”

 

“Yes, but-”

 

“Most people's anchors are partly their alpha and partly their mate and partly some emotion or mantra,” Derek cut him off, “Ideally I'd rather another werewolf ran with Boyd, but we have a small pack so I'm making due. Stiles is with you.”

 

Scott growled, eyes flashing red, “I want my mate with me. I want to bond with him.”

 

“Stiles doesn't have a close enough bond with Erica or Boyd to keep them under control. Stiles is with _you_.”

 

“I'm an alpha, too!” Scott stood up angrily, claws and teeth on display.

 

“Isaac,” Derek stated, eyes still locked with Scott, “Calm him down.”

 

“Scott...” Isaac tried, reaching for his arm.

 

Scott shoved him back, knocking him off the picnic bench they were using as a meeting point.

 

“Scott, what the fuck?!” Stiles shouted, standing up and heading for Isaac in concern, “You're an alpha! You're stronger than he is! Get it together!”

 

The color drained out of Scott's eyes, replaced with a look of horror and remorse, and Derek nodded, “You're with Stiles.”

 

“Isaac, I-”

 

“It's okay,” Isaac let Stiles help him up, “I'll see you after. We can bond next full moon, okay?”

 

Isaac hugged Scott tightly and he held him close for a moment, breathing in his scent, “I'm really sorry.”

 

“It's okay. We just got started. It will take time, okay?”

 

The moon rose and the pack flew into the woods, howling and shouting and laughing together. Erica was a runner, silent and strong, and Isaac had to chase after her at top speed. Derek felt them moving away from the group and deep into the preserve. Good. She'd be okay out there. Stiles, meanwhile, was staying in one spot with Scott, which was far from comforting. However, Derek had to put his fears for his mate's safety aside, because he had a very large and aggressive werewolf on his hands.

 

As a human Boyd was the picture of calm and quiet. He had been told from the time he was young not to show a temper. A temper could get a black man killed. So he stifled it. Now it was loose, rage over years of loneliness and fears for Erica put on full display. He roared to the heavens, a howl worthy of a position as second if Erica hadn't already easily fallen into that position with far more qualifications.

 

When Derek went to restrain him as he rampaged through their _camp_ instead of the woods it was quickly clear that he was also a helluva strong werewolf. He might even be able to stand up to an alpha in a few years time! He certainly gave Derek a run for his money as he blocked and deflected the stronger werewolf until he exhausted himself. Finally he stood panting, giving Derek a baleful look as if he wanted to know why he wasn't allowed this final release?

 

“Find it, Boyd. Find your anchor. Is it Erica?”

 

A huff in response.

 

“Something in your past, then. Or an emotion,” Derek continued to speak softly, “The diner?”

 

A huff of irritation this time.

 

“Anger? Sadness? Loneliness?”

 

Each received a negative response, the last getting a roar.

 

“Happiness?”

 

A pause.

 

“It's happiness?”

 

A huff, and a flash of eyes, sadness shining in their golden depths.

 

Derek knelt down beside Boyd's huge, hunched form and reached out to touch his shoulder gently, “Pack. Family.”

 

Boyd whimpered and Derek nodded, “I know. It hurts. You can't replace those you lost. No one could ever be a replacement for them. Ever. That doesn't mean you can't move forward and feel love and happiness again. There's no shame in that, nothing wrong with it. You deserve it, Vernon. You deserve to be happy with Erica and this pack. You deserve pups and a family. You deserve to raise them safely here, never alone again, with a pack of cubs for them to grow up with so that they'll never be alone either.”

 

A long howl, full of hope and old sorrow, filled the air as Boyd threw his head back and let all his emotions go. It was echoed throughout the woods by the powerful roar of Scott, the high-pitched shriek that was Derek's spastic mate, Isaac's low one, Erica's soprano, and the joyful alpha bellow from Derek. His pack was _one!_

 

Hours later and the pack converged deep in the woods where Isaac had finally coaxed an exhausted Erica back to them. Boyd pulled her close, holding her gently as he nuzzled along her neck. They slowly sank to the ground, their intentions clear, so Derek looked away to give them the privacy to mate during the full moon. If Boyd did form a knot, as Derek suspected, she would be pregnant that night. Werewolves tended to sync up to the full moon, becoming most fertile at that point; add a knot in and there was no way to avoid pregnancy short of heavy doses of birth control.

 

Isaac and Scott were also in each other's arms, but their relationship still baffled Derek. They were whispering together, but Isaac was keeping his hips away from Scott. They slowly knelt before each other, foreheads touching, lovingly staring into each other's eyes. Scott had reached into his own pants, but was keeping his boxers on. Isaac was... not touching himself or Scott. Derek realized he was staring and decided to look away.

 

Instead his eyes moved to his own mate, who was staring at Derek with vibrant orange eyes. Lust. Deep and profound. Derek felt his own desire heighten. Stiles pulled a pouch from around his neck and pulled out a plastic bottle of clear liquid. He smirked and waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Derek grinned broadly and raised one in return.

 

Stiles approached Derek since he was standing stock still, but hesitated when he saw the soft smile on Derek's lips instead of the hunger that he expected.

 

“Derek?” Stiles asked.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asked softly.

 

“What? Yes. Idiot. Why couldn't you?”

 

“Just... remembering the last time we were here. In these woods. This time of month. Our bodies united. Mating.”

 

“Ugh. Our knots,” Stiles winced, “I am _not_ looking forward to that.”

 

“It won't hurt this time,” Derek soothed, putting his hands on Stiles' elbows and smiling into his eyes, “It will feel far better than anything you have ever felt.”

 

“I know that logically,” Stiles breathed, “But... I'm scared. It was really kinda terrifying to have an uncontrollable painful erection, Derek. I thought my dick was gonna fall off.”

 

“It won't hurt this time,” Derek insisted.

 

Scott's cry of pain distracted Stiles but Derek turned his head back towards him.

 

“It's their right of passage. Mating the first time hurts because your body changes for the first time. Like transforming.”

 

“Can we... wait?” Stiles asked, wincing as Boyd let out a groan of pain as well.

 

“Yeah. Sure,” Derek took his hand and led him away, deciding the newer couples needed more space as well, “For the record, when you get your fears under wraps, I'd love for you to top me tonight.”

 

“For real?!” Stiles squeaked.

 

“You do know it's always an option, right?” Derek snorted, “Barring any over-consumption of Indian food.”

 

“Same, I mean, except with Taco Bell, but for real? With a knot? I mean... wow, I'm on board, but I thought you'd be all about getting it in me tonight.”

 

“I'm hoping I can after you do,” Derek laughed, glancing towards the moon, “But I don't think we'll have time. Even if we don't, I want this. You deep inside me. Claiming me. It was a surprise last time, something neither of us had a chance to discuss or decide before hand. I want it deliberate this time. I want you to take me, Stiles. Choose me again, the way you did when you decided to keep a wolf you caught in a trap.”

 

“In my defense, I totally thought you were a dog,” Stiles snickered, “Or at least part dog.”

 

“No you didn't,” Derek replied softly, “I could hear you lie, even to yourself. You knew you had a werewolf in your net. You were suicidal and desperate in turns. You were hoping I'd either save you or end you.”

 

Stiles stopped walking and turned to take both of Derek's hands, “Then we saved each other. Derek, I don't regret us mating. Do you?”

 

“Never.”

 

Stiles smiled softly, “Can I kiss you?”

 

Derek smiled, unabashedly showing off his bunny teeth, “Always.”

 

Stiles pulled Derek in and kissed him passionately. Derek's knees buckled at the longing that flowed through him. His _mate_ was going to claim him.

 

Derek was already nude since he preferred to run about in wolf form, and Stiles had only his bottle of lube in that bag on him. He dropped the bag once he'd found a nice grassy area. He was happy to drop down to his knees and start opening Derek up, but Derek stopped him. He so rarely got a chance to get his ass nicely eaten out and he'd splashed through the creek just to freshen up for Stiles for that main event. He invited him in with a glance at his lips and a nod towards his ass as he dropped to all fours. Stiles was practically drooling as he moved to obey.

 

Derek let himself bask in the bliss of Stiles' tongue running over his hole, teasing him and making his pucker open up. He shook and shuddered and begged for more. His knot was already filling, and as he'd promised Stiles there was no pain. He guided his mate's hand there to show him, letting him see his eyes were full of only desire.

 

“Fuck, that's so big,” Stiles whimpered.

 

“Good thing you're coming first.”

 

“Yeah, I'll be all nice and relaxed when you plow me like a field.”

 

“Stiles...” Derek sighed.

  
“I know, I know,” Stiles grumbled.

 

“Shut up,” They both stated together.

 

Derek smiled a bit and reached back to shove Stiles' face back into his ass.

 

“Mm, bubble butt,” Stiles growled.

 

“I do not have a- ahhh,” Derek ran out of words as Stiles' tongue fucked his hole in a daring prequil to what he had promised Derek, “Stiles... I'm ready.”

 

“Fuck,” Stiles knelt up, grabbing the lube and working it into Derek's hole, “Fuck. Fuck. Uh. _Maybe_ a problem, and I swear, this really _hasn't_ happened to me before.”

 

Derek turned to look down at Stiles, frowning at the sight of his lover completely limp.

 

“You're overthinking,” Derek leaned forward to kiss him slowly, wrapping his hand around Stiles' lubed cock, “There won't be pain. Not tonight. Only pleasure. Only you buried in my body and- how did you describe it to Boyd?- A twenty minute orgasm.”

 

“That part _was_ good.”

 

“So don't fear it. I'm not afraid. Look at me, Stiles. I'm rock hard. My knot is popped and waiting for you to clamp around me.”

 

Stiles nervously wrapped his long fingers around Derek's length, rough tips exploring Derek's sensitive knot. He gasped and moaned, pulling Stiles against himself as the urge to throw him down and take him became torturous.

 

“Stiles,” Derek moaned his name, “Fuck, I want you. My gorgeous fox. Please.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles mouthed along Derek's neck, “Yeah, that's doing it for me. Beg me, my mate.”'

 

“Don't start,” Derek growled back, pretending not to like the challenge despite the fact his cock started leaking at Stiles' teasing.

 

“You're going to take my knot tonight,” Stiles whispered, clearly psyching himself up as Derek worked him until he was rigid at last, “Yeah. Take it. You're asking for it. For my... for my knot.”

 

“Yes,” Derek replied, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice and going for husky instead, “I'm asking for your knot. Give it to me, sexy.”

 

Stiles glared at him for being unconvincing, but his cock had gotten the message. He was hard and his knot was starting to form. At the moment he hadn't noticed. He was focused on pushing Derek onto his back. He lifted Derek's knees and stared down at him, eyes filled with awe and longing.

 

“Holy shit, you are so fucking hot.”

 

Derek just smirked. He knew what he looked like. Adonis body and a gorgeous twink about to pound into his _muscular_ ass. Derek raised an eyebrow and gestured down with his chin. _Get on with it_.

 

“Say it,” Stiles teased, rubbing the head of his cock over Derek's hole, “Come on, Derek. You're the one who was hungry to bottom. _Say it.”_

 

Derek rolled his eyes, but when he spoke he was sincere and his voice came out ragged with lust. Stiles sank in slowly, breath shaky as if every inch cost him his sanity. He let out a soft whimper when he bottomed out and then his eyes flew open, glowing a brilliant orange as he stared down at Derek in awe. Derek couldn't have missed what caused his expression. His ass had gone from full to stretched, and he was panting as Stiles' knot pressed against his prostate _perfectly_. Derek let out a choked moan and shifted, unable to wait for Stiles to catch up, and then he couldn't stop. He was jerking his hips, boucing on Stiles' cock with what little movement he had while gripped beneath both knees and locked around Stiles' knot.

 

“Fuck, yeah, twerk it, fuuuuck!” Stiles moaned, his cock throbbing in Derek's ass, “OH FUCK!”

 

He could feel every pulse from knot to tip as Stiles came inside of him, and his cries were bliss to his inner wolf. His mate was so excited he was howling, head thrown back in joy. Derek shook as his own knot ached with the need to come. He wanted to spill inside of Stiles so he tried to hold himself back, but every movement of Stiles' sharp hips was making Derek's nerves light up. He was making all matter of embarassing noises where he was normally a silent lover. Stiles was in much the same state, moaning his name and groaning as his body rolled into a second and then a third orgasm.

 

Derek couldn't take it any longer. He shifted back further on his shoulders to free his hand and Stiles' knot was _there_ right fucking _there,_ perfectly filling him until he only had to grip his knot to trigger a long, hard release. He jizzed right up to his face, licking the bitter tang from his lips as he groaned in endless bliss. Stiles was shouting his name, shaking in pleasure and moving as much as his knot allowed.

 

Finally they collapsed together, Derek a mess of come and Stiles joining him in it. For a while Stiles shuddered and gasped on top of him, shaking through his long, drawn out orgasm, but Derek kept his hand off his knot now. The pressure from Stiles' body wasn't enough to get him to continue coming, and he wanted it that way. He needed a grip around his knot, and it _would_ be his mate's body.

 

Finally Stiles was a limp noodle in more ways than one and Derek took action. He rolled them fast, pinning Stiles' exhausted body beneath him. He slid off of his dwindling member, enjoying the sound of his last whimpers. He moved quickly to slick up his cock and pressed three dripping wet fingers into Stiles' body. He worked him fast, aiming to get him open rather than get him off. He rolled him onto his belly, lifted him onto his knees, and sank in up to his knot.

 

Stiles yelped, but he pushed back receptively as well. Derek growled and fucked the tip and first few inches into Stiles' body just to get him _good_ and ready. When Stiles shuddered and called his name again Derek pushed into him as hard as he dared and felt the blissful moment when his knot slid past the first ring of muscle and into Stiles' tight body.

 

For a moment he was still. Stunned into silence and immobility. Stiles was hot and clamped around him, gripping his knot so perfectly that no hand or thigh could ever imitate such a sensation of pure and unbridled bliss. Derek was _home_. Stiles was tight satisfaction and Derek was almost afraid to move because it felt like too much already.

 

Finally he shifted and heat shot up his spine. Stiles' muscles clenched and he swore, shifting back to meet Derek as he pushed forward and then found rotating his hips to be far more satisfying. Once the motion started he couldn't stop. He was grinding against his mate's prostate and making him whine as he was overstimulated again and again. Derek was letting out desperate sounds, growls and breathy groans, as the pressure built up in his balls.

 

When he came it wasn't the quick, satisfying, eruption that he was used to but a full body experience. His cock and knot throbbed as one to fill Stiles with his seed and his brain faded to white as every muscle jumped. His world became pumping his mate full of his come, and the fact he couldn't actually impregnate him wasn't smoething his wolf understood. Fuck. Knot. Breed. _Mate!_ Stiles let out a broken sound and his muscles clenched Derek's knot, sending him into another round of climaxes just as he thought the first was going to stop. It was draining and long and blissfull and by the time they collapsed onto the forest floor they were both gone to the word.

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

Derek let out a slow breath before pushing open the door to the veterinary office. A little bell tinkled overhead. Derek breathed in the scent of distressed and sickly animals and felt his stomach turn. He swallowed down his bile and walked up to the desk. A barrier stopped him from being able to reach out and touch the bell. The entire counter was made of mountain ash wood. Derek frowned at it and called out instead.

 

“Hello?”

 

A dark skinned man who Derek barely remembered exited the back room and paused, eyes widening slightly.

 

“Well. Derek Hale. You have your mother's eyes.”

 

Derek flashed his reds, “In more ways than one.”

 

“I had assumed,” He acknowledge as he left the safety of the barrier, “That you had died as well.”

 

“Well, you know what they say about people who assume,” Stiles snickered, stepping up from behind Derek where he'd been hovering.

 

Derek nudged him, “Stiles. Behave.”

 

“Derek hopes you still have some connections despite his familial pack being gone,” Stiles stated, grinning as he leaned against the barrier above the desk. It looked like he was leaning on air, the sassy little shit.

 

“That depends on what connections you are referring to,” He replied.

 

“We've got a pack, a home, a den, and we're happily mated,” Derek stated .

 

“May your den be blessed with... ah, I see,” Deaton replied, hesitating, “You're looking for _cubs.”_

 

“We could adopt human children,” Stiles stated, “But we'd rather give werewolf cubs a home. Derek's already talked about how difficult it is for them to find safe places if their whole pack is gone.”

 

“It is at that, but werewolves are intensely loyal creatures. Despite the Argent's best efforts, there are not a great deal of pups without homes,” Deaton stated solemnly, “I haven't been an emissary in a great many years, but I can see if my old contacts still hold. I will reach out to them for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Stiles nodded, “Now if you'll excuse us, we're off to see a city official about an annoying citation he's given us.”

 

Derek snorted, “It's Hale land. He can kiss my ass if he has a problem with the size and occupancy of our buildings.”

 

“He mentioned _environmental_ concerns, too,” Stiles chided.

 

“I'm working on it!” Derek snapped, “The local RV store only had three gray water tanks for sale outside of their display models, and they were too small! I don't even see what the problem is. We use biodegradable soap. It's no different than using dish water to water your plants!”

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

Over the course of the next few months the pack adjusted to their new surroundings. Scott finally bonded with a therapist and started seeing her, occasionally with his mother or Isaac in tow. Stiles decorated, painted, and made modifications to their tiny home. He had channeled his Polish ancestors and done the place up in traditional decor. The walls were a stark white with beautiful, flowing flower and heart designs in bright blue in the corners and around frames. The ceiling above the loft was [bright yellow](https://www.flickr.com/photos/ilvic/9653898240) and the floral designs there were primary colors with frames to add to the already existing exposed beams between the covered insulation. A bright red, decorated rug stretched across the living room/master bedroom floor and another in the loft. The light switch covers he carved himself out of wood and painted. Derek wasn't the least bit surprised when Stiles told him he wanted to become an interior decorator, and not just because it was cliché. He'd found something he loved beyond survival. He wanted to make the dens of hundreds, and he could do a great deal of it from home. He was even better at it than he had been at designing the floor plans, and it was something he'd enjoyed more. Erica and Boyd asked him to help with their home as well and he made the bedroom for their future cubs bright and beautiful, this time employing African heritage*. Warm reds and strong browns countered by the softness of cream. African animals were a theme throughout along with sharp, bold shapes. Boyd shed a tear at the sight.

 

Stiles wasn't the only one enrolling in classes. Boyd was embracing his love of building. Erica was working towards a business degree. Isaac was undecided but happily enrolled in classes with Scott to work towards a general degree.

 

And finally the rec center, lovingly called The Pack Center, was built. Where Stiles had initially envisioned something small and cozy, Derek had realized that their growing pack was going to need more than a bigger shed with wifi and a television. This time Derek took over designs and Stiles didn't get to set foot inside until it was complete.

 

“Okay,” Derek whispered, “Open your eyes.”

 

Stiles hadn't even peaked. It was too exciting to let Derek woo him with his money. He pulled his hands away to see what looked like a small gym from school, but with far more features making it a multipurpose room. Folding tables and chairs hung on the wall to the right. A basketball net was suspended in front of a carpeted stage straight ahead. To the left were a row of windows to bring light into the room: southern exposure, with a row of planters beneath that so far only contained dirt. Beneath them were couches, all nice brown leather, which a pack of werewolves would have no trouble lining up to face the stage for comfort during events.

 

“This is _huge_ , but... where's my big screen TV?” Stiles asked, looking up eagerly.

 

Derek chuckled, “You know me too well, and I know _you_ well enough to make sure what you needed is here.”

 

Derek pulled a remote from his pocket and a projection screen dropped down. He pointed to the projector above and grinned broadly, “The DVD/Blueray player is in the alcove on the stage. It's also got a Roku so you can watch games, Netflix, Holo.”

 

“Hulu,” Stiles laughed.

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Scott helped, huh?” Stiles teased.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“This is so cool!” Stiles cheered, “I'm not used to fancy shit, I wouldn't have thought to do a combination room! Shit. I need to up my game as a decorator.”

 

“There's more.”

 

“Well, duh, I saw the outside and this is only part of the building's square footage.”

 

“Shut up,” Derek sighed.

 

“Make me,” Stiles teased, grabbing his arm and heading for one of the doors.

 

It was marked with a bathroom symbol, and inside was a bathroom with wooden stall doors that went ceiling to floor the way of nice venues. Stiles looked disappointed. Derek laughed and led him through the door at the back. It led to a hallway that headed left and opened into a room large enough for stalls to the right, a tiled partition wall, and a deep hot tub that could fit six people easily. The stalls were a set of showers and changing stalls, so that the pack wouldn't have to use up their own water if they chose not to. A door to the left wrapped back around to the greatroom after passing through a stairwell to the second door, so that it could be accessed from both areas. A door across from them led to the outside so the bath house could be accessed without going through the great room. An outdoor shower was on the patio there and the pathway to the lake was straight ahead. Some outdoor exercise equipment was along the pathway now, which Stiles and the pack had already been using.

 

When they returned to the main room again they went through the _other_ door, which was a swinging door that led into a gigantic restaurant style kitchen. Stiles and whoever he enlisted could cook for hundreds here if he so chose. They could host events, which suited Erica's plans as she wanted to go into politics someday. Stiles would have his oven _and then some_. Stiles stroked the chrome lovingly, but didn't want to linger. He wanted to see the upstairs.

 

Up the steps was a cozy, carpeted room with two big couches, two recliners, and a bunch of bean bag chairs in front of a sixty inch flat screen TV. Stiles gaped at it and it took Derek tapping his shoulder a few times before he turned to see what was beyond the cozy gaming area. A small work out area with a bike, a treadmill, a universal weightlifting machine, and a set of dumb bells in a mirrored alcove.

 

“You are so getting laid tonight,” Stiles whispered in awe.

 

“You do realize you're just going to hang out at Isaac and Scott's most of the time anyway, right?” Derek replied.

 

“Shut up, you're killing my boner. Can we have sex here? Like is that allowed?”

 

“This is a communal area, Stiles,” Derek shamed, “Our kids are going to play here some day. You really want to start that precedent?”

 

“Well, they'll be teenagers someday, so...”

 

“No they won't. They're going to be babies forever,” Derek growled.

 

Stiles laughed, “We don't even have them yet and you're already infantilizing them!”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Make me!” Stiles cackled, and took off running.

 

Derek chased. He always chased. He chased and caught and they frotted against each other in the woods, loud as they pleased, made a mess of each other, and staggered home to shower in the new building and fire up the hot tub. It was nice to be in a place with unlimited electricity, but Stiles was still content to return home and lay in their big bed with a wall of fabric separating him from the beautiful outdoors. He lay in Derek's arms and listened to the bugs and animals outside and slept secure in his new home.   
  
* Due to the disgusting history of America, Boyd's lineage would most likely be unknown, making it impossible to trace back to which part of Africa he's from and therefore making the design in his room generic rather than specific like Stiles'. I mostly drew from the style of a friend of mine who is African American rather than something researched. Here's a vague idea of the color schemes and fabric styles. <http://www.mkumodels.com/2018/06/african-room-design/african-furnishing-home-decor-traditional-great-african-bedroom-contemporary-african-bedroom-decorating-ideas/>

 


	38. Chapter 38

“Stiles,” Derek couldn't keep the excitement, fear, and anxiety out of his voice, “Deaton called.”

 

“Huh?” Stiles grunted, leaning to one side as he tried to take out Scott's drone, “M'kay. Five minutes.”

 

Derek huffed, walked across the room, and unplugged the system. Stiles gasped in outrage and Scott made a sound like a dying wildebeests, throwing a hand out in mourning.

 

“Why would you do that?!” Stiles asked in horror.

 

“Deaton called.”

 

“Deaton called?” Stiles echoed hopefully.

 

“He found a supernatural orphanage. There's a couple kids there who might be a fit for us.”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“Shall we take #1?”

 

“Werecreatures need territories and packs to feel safe, so... yeah? Is it far?”

 

“Texas.”

 

“Road trip!” Stiles shouted.

 

A _boring_ road trip. That took far too long and included Stiles behaving like an ass for a good part of the time out of sheer boredom. However, when they laid in their big loft at night and talked about parenting and school, and hopes and dreams, Derek loved him more than ever. Scott and Isaac tagged along, leaving Derek still confused about the two of them. They smelled like mates, but never like sex. It confused the hell out of him, but their love for each other was obvious so he stayed out of it.

 

Finally they reached a big old ranch with a sign and a huge gate meant for something more sturdy than cattle. The sign read “Lobos Ranch” but Derek had been warned that they had all sorts of creatures within. It was up to them to figure out who was a good match for his pack, and there was only one actual werewolf inside and two pairs of hopeful parents. Since wolves ran in packs their cubs usually had a home to go to if orphaned, and if not then they sometimes were beyond rehabilitation. The werewolf inside might be a permanent loner omega, unable to be a part of their pack no matter what they wanted. The other was a canine, but not a werewolf. Someone they might still consider adopting, but they might not be a pack animal or even able to bond after years away from healthy family dynamics.

 

A long walk down the path brought them to a gigantic house with playground equipment surrounding it. Children swung from trees in tire swings or via their own tentacles. A few were shrieking from the top of a jungle gym, one flapping her wings aggressively. Another was digging into the ground with strong arms and sharp claws. A tiny girl was standing in the middle of the sandbox and wailing on the top of her lungs with a shovel in her hand. A man in overalls came out of the room, smelling of chew and body odor. He had kind eyes and gave the kids he passed fond pats and a few playful pushes. They laughed and the looks they threw his way were playful and tender.

 

Derek strode forward eagerly, his pack on his heels, and shook the man's hand.

 

“Thank you for seeing us,” Derek replied, “Deaton gave you our credentials?”

 

“Hale pack. Land. Good creatures,” He nodded, eyes blinking vertically, “I hope you find what- or rather who- you're looking for. Spend some time with them. All of these little ones are adoptable. I kept the ones who ain't inside today.”

 

Scott and Isaac started walking around, eyes big and worried. They probably wouldn't take a child home today considering they looked half afraid of the ones they saw, but they could always come back again when they were ready. Stiles was off somewhere and Derek was about to start looking for him when Isaac screamed and pulled away from a kid who had latched onto his leg... with claws. Scott was waving at the keeper, but Derek headed over to stop any more blood from being drawn. The child shied away from Derek's big scary eyebrows and Derek watched it hide behind Scott. It hurt to see such a small creature afraid of him. Yellow eyes flashed at him from where the boy was hiding in fear. So... Scott and Isaac had found the werewolf before Derek had. Interesting. Derek wasn't about to let it become an issue. He might not be right for _either_ of them.

 

“They're desperate for a home,” Derek told Isaac, “Try to be distant with them if you aren't going to take them home.”

 

Isaac nodded miserably and Scott put an arm around his mate to steer him away. They stayed put this time, looking around but not engaging. Derek went in search of his mate again, determined to show him the lone werewolf- he would need a pack, after all- before looking at any other creatures.

 

Stiles had _not_ followed the advice he'd just given Isaac and Scott. Stiles was sitting in the middle of the sand box holding a little girl as tightly as he could while she chewed on his arm and sobbed around his flesh. She was making good work of savaging him, but Stiles seemed completely immune to the fact she was drawing blood. He looked up at Derek with big, wide eyes filled with tears and spoke in a croaking voice.

 

“She won't tell me her name.”

 

“Bit hard to do when her mouth is full,” Derek replied, reaching out to stroke her hair and try to calm her.

 

To Derek's surprise, it worked. She stopped gnawing and lay on Stiles, breathing hard, as his arm healed. Eventually she released him completely, buried her face in his shirt, and resumed sobbing without all the bloodletting. Stiles spoke to her softly as the two crouched in the sandbox with the girl.

 

“Hey there, that's better. Do you want to play now? There are trucks, and I happen to know an _awesome_ sandbox game with trucks. My best friend Scott taught me. You scoop out roads and if we add water...”

 

Derek watched, heart aching with want, as Stiles poured a bucket of water slowly over the sand and started attempting construction of a bridge. It fell. He tried again. It fell. The girl laughed a little and Stiles gave Derek a watery smile.

 

“Malia,” The guardian stated from behind them, “Didn't come with a last name. Someone found her in the woods in the shape of a coyote. Caught in a trap. Didn't think her arm would ever heal. She turned from a coyote to a human inside the Animal Control shelter just before they were going to put her down. We have people in there just in case and... well... I'm glad we did. She hasn't spoken a word beyond her name in a year now. We recon she's around five.”

 

“Hey there, Malia,” Stiles spoke softly as he brushed sand off of his hands, “I'm sure you miss your parents. I know I still miss mine. Would you like to try having two daddies for a bit? We've got a really nice home, with lots of space to play, and if you're _really_ good I bet Derek would put in a swing set for us! What do you say?”

 

Derek swallowed hard and glanced up at the guardian. He _had_ said all the kids out there were up for adoption, so Stiles' plea to Malia should have been okay. The Guardian was watching them carefully and nodded when Malia reached out and took Stiles' hand. He pulled her closer, holding her rather than restraining her, and she wrapped both arms around his neck to nuzzle in close. She was scent marking him. It seemed _they_ were the ones adopted.

 

Derek stood up and they headed to the porch where Derek signed the paperwork for their little coyote cub. He was still worried about the werewolf in the compound. They didn't survive well without a pack, and a group of friends might not cut it. However, when he looked up it was to see Isaac and Scott standing there, each holding the hand of the young man with dark, spiky hair. He was nearly a teenager and the lone werewolf that Derek had scolded away from biting Isaac. Derek could smell rage boiling beneath his blood, but Isaac didn't look the least bit deterred. As he watched the boy met Derek's eyes and bared his teeth in threat this time. Scott moved his hand to his shoulder and gripped it tightly.

 

“Let it go, little cub,” Scott soothed, “He's a friend. Your alpha, along with me.”

 

Derek smiled softly as the boy settled and dropped his eyes demurely, “You're going to be good at this.”

 

“You're going to need a bigger house,” Stiles laughed, “We can make the smaller one a guest house! Maybe Melissa will move in.”

 

Isaac nodded and Scott smiled hopefully. He and his mother had been repairing their relationship over time and the idea of having her closer to the pack clearly appealed to him. Derek smiled softly at them all. Their little pack was growing!

 


	39. Chapter 39

Malia was small for her age, so they had to put her in a carseat. She protested it by chewing up the headrest pads on either side of her head. Stiles thought she would probably heal from a car accident, but since she was pre-pubescent she was unlikely to be able to control her healing. Besides, nobody wanted a child to go through that kind of pain. Liam was a bit older, nearly a teenager, so he just had to buckle up. Stiles read to Malia during the ride back, book after book after book, and where she started out angry and snarly, she slowly started to become fascinated by the pictures and stories. Soon she was nudging him whenever he paused partway through the first day.

 

That night they slept all curled up together, Derek and Stiles framing Malia's tiny body as she curled up into a tiny ball and whimpered in her sleep. Liam pushed Scott and Isaac away at first, but after the two adults fell asleep he pressed against Scott's back and drooled all over the back of his shirt.

 

Finally they reached their lands again and Stiles breathed easy when he placed Malia down in the gated yard in front of the Pack Center. While they'd been away Boyd had run out and bought a huge playground in the shape of a boat. Malia took one look at it and bolted for the boat, climbing inside, peering out the port window, and growling at everyone.

 

“She's... adorable,” Erica tried, looking strained.

 

“She's had a hard life,” Stiles told them, “She needs love and understanding. While I'm going to school online I'll help her adjust. She's going to be fine.”

 

“She's probably going to sleep out here,” Isaac snickered.

 

“No she won't. She'll want the house that smells like her dads,” Stiles argued weakly.

 

Liam was shown to house #3, the mirror of Stiles and Derek's house, and they told him to settle into the loft while they moved things from their house. Liam climbed up into the loft and sat on the carpeted floor and looked dejected.

 

“They're gonna bring you a bed,” Stiles soothed, “Probably Isaac's. And we can put other stuff up here. Maybe a small tv? I dunno, it's up to them to decide what you get to have. Some parents don't like kids having TV's? Which I think is lame. Scott's gonna be a cool parent, but I don't know about Isaac. He seems like a bit of a shi- er- jerk sometimes. But in a good way?”

 

“Why are you still talking to me?” Liam asked sharply.

 

It was the first time he'd spoken to Stiles and he was both thrilled and annoyed.

 

“I'm the alpha's mate. Show some respect, dude.”

 

“Okay, _dude. Please_ leave me alone.”

 

“Right,” Stiles sighed, “You probably wanna stretch your legs. Take as shower...”

 

“This matchbox has a shower? Good. It's probably the only place I _will_ be able to stretch out,” Liam groused, “I wanna go back to the Ranch. I had a real room there. Not this _shelf_. I'm not a fucking book.”

 

Stiles ignored the swear and continued, “Check out the huge game above the gymnasium of the big building beyond the playground.”

 

“That... that's open? We can go there?” Liam leaned down and peered over the rails to his loft at Stiles, “When is it open?”

 

“All the time,” Stiles grinned, “It's ours. Yours now, too. We live in these smaller houses so we all have a little piece of home to ourselves, but the Pack Center is for all of us. There's even a hot tub!”

 

“Whoa, can... can I see it?”

 

“ _After_ you help your dad's move in.”

 

“They're not my dad's,” He snapped, eyes shuttering, “My dad is dead!”

 

“That sucks,” Stiles nodded, “Mine is dead, too.”

 

“Yeah, but you're old.”

 

“Am not!”

 

“Are, too!”

 

Stiles grinned and Liam smothered a grin.

 

They were totally going to be friends.

 

Stiles returned to where Derek was having a staring contest with Malia from the inside of the playground equipment. Stiles grinned as he knelt down and held up the doll she'd come with along with two other outfits and a pair of shoes she refused to wear. She reached for it and Stiles stepped back. She reached again and he stepped back further. She growled at him.

 

“Let her play,” Derek advised, “She's been cooped up for days. Get her stuff situated.”

 

Stiles laid her doll down just outside the boat and Malia snatched it up and rubbed her face against it. Stiles cooed and left her to play. He passed Scott and Isaac transporting trash bags full of their things to the new house. They looked excited and Stiles gave them a grin and a wave. He pulled the box full of Malia's things from the transport house they'd been staying in and headed into their own home. During his renovation of their tiny home he'd put a floor to ceiling latticework gate to keep their future bundle of joy safe. It had a door that lifted inward so that there was no danger of falling down. To enter you simply pushed and crawled into the loft. To leave you lifted it and climbed down, letting it drop into place. It could be secured to the ceiling via a rope with a hook on the end. Stiles had worried it would take up too much space, but since they only had _one_ child the loft wouldn't suffer. If they'd ended up with someone younger than Malia he would have had to put them downstairs, so he was glad Malia was old enough to climb the loft ladder.

 

Stiles shoved the box in and climbed the rest of the way up into the loft. He put the kid's books he'd bought during the trip back on her book shelf and opened the windows to air the place out. He needed a bed for her. They had spare cots, but he wanted a _proper_ bed for her so that she could feel at home. Stiles went for the foam mattress in their mobile home and cut a big chunk out, the perfect size for her loft to have a bed along the far wall. She'd be able to grow into it, and it already smelled like pack.

 

Stiles put the sheets he'd bought on the way home onto the now twin sized bed, laid a pillow on top, and foldered her clothes and put them on a shelf. It was summer so they hadn't bought her blankets yet. He wanted her to choose them herself when she was ready. By the time he was done setting up her room with her sparse belongings she had been coaxed out of her hiding spot. Derek walked into their home with her on his hip, chewing on a stick, and sat her down at the table.

 

“Now, what do you want for dinner?” Derek asked, his voice music to Stiles' ears. He peered down at them from his perch.

 

“Deer,” She replied.

 

“Okay,” Derek agreed, opening the fridge and pulling out a flank, “Steak okay?”

 

“Deer?” She asked hopefully, and of _course_ the first word beside her name would be a request for _food._

 

“Yes, we have deer,” Derek smiled, eyes soft when he looked at her, “Most days, actually. And rabbit, squirrel, groundhog. We cook it, though. I know you were probably used to raw meat, but it's safer this way. Even for little coyotes.”

 

“Okay,” She replied, sounding disappointed.

 

Stiles snickered and she looked up, eyes widening as she saw him up there.

 

“Ohhh!” She breathed, pointing up at Stiles in wonder.

 

“Mm-hm,” Derek agreed, “That's _your_ den. Stiles- daddy- was just getting it ready for you.”

 

“That's right,” Stiles lifted the hatch and climbed down, “You'll have to practice getting up and down, okay? I don't want you to fall. Can you practice while pops makes your dinner?”

 

Malia nodded and Stiles stood at the base of the ladder while she climbed up and pushed at the hatch. She let it fall a couple of times, giggling at the racket it made. Derek grumbled about padding it and Stiles nodded. Finally she climbed all the way up and shrieked in excitement at the sight of her little space. She was still small enough to stand in it at the peak of the roof and did so, smiling as she ran back and forth before tossing herself down on the bed. Stiles laughed and coaxed her to try climbing down. She struggled to turn around and get out of the room, but eventually she managed it. Stiles had her practice a few more times, offering her cookies after dinner if she could do it three times. He counted it off with her and she seemed enthused. Stiles left her to it and took the few steps to the stove to wrap his arms around Derek's back.

 

“Nearly done,” Derek said softly, “What kind of vegetables did they stock for us that don't require cooking? I'm thinking fresh is best for now.”

 

Stiles checked and pulled out carrots and apples, “These work?”

 

“Perfect. Boyd and Erica thought of everything.”

 

Stiles sniffed the food and shook his head, “Melissa.”

 

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Derek agreed.

 

Stiles caught the glint in his eye and gaped, “You were testing me!”

 

Derek chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you. For... this.”

 

“Adopting a child with you?” Stiles clarified in surprise, “Geez, sure. I mean... it's our future, right?”

 

“You didn't want kids when we me. It didn't have to be,” Derek reminded him.

 

“Yeah,” Stiles reached out and ran his fingers through Malia's hair as she devoured her dinner, “It really did. I was scared, Derek. I didn't think I could have this so I said I didn't want it, but you know what? I can have it because of you. If I'd ended up with Lydia I can guarantee you that I'd be sticking with my no-kids rule, but now? What I want is a family.”

 

“Well,” Derek turned to pull Stiles in for one of his patented Big Arm Game Hugs, “You've got one. A family _and_ a pack.”

 

With that declaration the smell of urine reached them from the loft and Stiles groaned and let his head thunk on Derek's shoulder.  
  


“Malia! That is NOT how we mark our territory!”

 

 


	40. Chapter 40

Derek hit the lights on their main room, plugged in the surge protector strip, and then grinned as everyone cooed and cheered. He straightened up and surveyed his work. Half the ornaments were at small child-level, and half of those were all clustered in one area, all the glass ones were above that, and Erica's daughter, nicknamed Xena, had eaten at least one glitter covered pine cone before her parents had caught on and taken her away from the craft area. The lights, however, were absolutely fantastic and evenly distributed throughout the tree thanks to Stiles and Derek sneaking in before everyone else arrived.

“Dinner!” Stiles shouted, pushing through the swinging door with a Turkey on a decorative platter.

Another round of cheers went up and people hurried to grab the rest of the meal and bring it to the tables set up for Thanksgiving dinner. Soon it was a brightly lit display of its own, filled with delicious smells and the joyful scent of his pack's emotions.

Their pack had grown.  
  
Erica and Boyd had three children who Boyd was staying home to raise with the help of the pack. He worked from home making beautiful wooden furniture which people purchased online or drove out to buy out of a freshly built shed he had made himself to house his creations. They had two boys and girl- T'Challa, M'Baku, and Shuri- the youngest being the pine cone eating girl at three years old. She was the only one of the next generation who could fully shift into a wolf and tended to use it to chew things up, much to Erica's frustration. She was as clever as her father and destined for- in Stiles' words- greatness. Stiles often bemoaned the fact that the brilliant Boyd was staying home to help raise all their kids, but the man was quite firm in his goal. He was using his great mind to raise the next generation... and there was no shame in that very important job.

Erica had indeed realized her dream of making it into politics and had a seat in Congress. She was often away due to her duties, but had a standing date in the Pack Center to video chat to her kids, reading and singing to them every night. She had made great strides towards werewolf rights, but at the moment no one knew she was a werewolf herself. She planned to out herself by removing the contacts that hid her eye refraction after her next bill passed.  
  
Scott and Isaac- with great contribution by Boyd- had raised Liam to be a responsible adult. He was applying to colleges and looked up to Erica as his mentor. Boyd had homeschooled him at first, but he'd eventually gone to Beacon Hills High. Since they were still quite young they were planning on adopting more kids. Deaton had contacted them about a boy and girl who needed a home, one a human and one a chimera. The human was likely to stay that way, but Deaton was asking that Scott or Derek turn the girl. They were both teenagers since Isaac believed firmly in adopting older kids who were less likely to find homes.

Derek and Stiles couldn't be more proud of Malia. She was nine and as wild as ever, but also a happy and loving young lady. It had been difficult at first. She'd hated everything and everyone until a kitsune had joined their pack. Kira and her family had moved to Beacon Hills to deal with a curse on her family and Kira and Malia had become best friends after Malia had sniffed her out while she'd been training in swordplay in the woods with her mother. After a year- when Malia was a tender seven years old- she had declared them girlfriends and announced they would be married someday. Stiles was quite possibly already planning their wedding in secret.

A few years after Malia was adopted Derek and Stiles had built an add-on to their tiny home and brought home two twin werewolf boys who's pack had been decimated by a pack of Alphas. The Alpha Pack had eventually destroyed themselves like the legendary snake eating it's tail, leaving the twin toddlers to be found crying in an abandoned bank. Deaton had brought them to Derek as word had gotten around that they were adopting orphaned cubs. The twins were so young that they bonded easily with Stiles and Derek, and since Stiles' job hadn't taken off at the time he had stayed home for a year to help him adjust as he had with Malia when she'd first arrived.  
  
Stiles' job as an interior decorator hadn't taken off until he'd- in typical Stiles fashion- gotten a role on a show on a TLC reality show. Derek had groaned in disgust while Scott had quipped that they were all lucky it hadn't been Naked and Afraid. After that he'd been quite coveted for his unique and _expensive_ taste. He'd ended up designing for Hollywood stars and even a minor royal cousin in England. Since he traveled so much for work, Malia and the twins had often ended up in Scott and Boyd's care and called them uncles, but he was home just as often as he was away.  
  
Derek had a job in the local bank as he'd found through cashing in his family's accounts that he had a passion for stocks and investments. Stiles called him a nerd but adored him for it. Derek liked having a 9 to 5 job. It made him feel normal and involved in the world for the first time in his life.

 

Melissa had eventually sold her house in Beacon Hills and taken on the smallest tiny home in their little commune. She never remarried, choosing to devote herself to her career and serve as the nurse for the cubs during her off hours. She and Scott had repaired their relationship, which Allison had poisoned through lies and manipulation, and she adored her grandchildren.

 

Finally there was Lydia. Lydia Martin had vanished one day and reappeared in their woods stark naked, shocking Stiles who had found her and helped her back to their home. She had been quite shaken, telling them she was having visions of death. Stiles was the one who had figured out that she was a banshee, and eventually she had decided to stay with them on Hale land in order to have a support group. She took up the loft style tiny house with the big bay window. Jackson and Danny had moved in with her and Stiles had grumbled so much that Derek had worried there would be a rift in the pack. However, eventually Jackson had won them all over by being an absolute softy where the cubs were concerned. By the time Lydia gave birth to her first daughter, Danny named co-father despite the fact he'd laughed at the idea of _ever_ touching Lydia, he had become an ingrained part of the pack. Her daughter Meredith was her pride and joy, but pregnancy had been difficult for Lydia and she had bemoaned werewolf healing. She had declined the bite, which likely wouldn't work on her anyway, and gotten her tubes tied instead.

Derek's nightmares had nearly vanished and Stiles often visited his father's grave to tell him how happy he was now. He'd had it moved to be next to his mother's at great expense, but it had given him the peace he'd needed to have finally done right by his father. They were a content and influential pack, much like the original Hale Pack had been, but had earned it in their own right.

 


End file.
